


The Cabin By the Lake

by Rhysand_vs_Rowan



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-02 00:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12716418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysand_vs_Rowan/pseuds/Rhysand_vs_Rowan
Summary: Cassian has been keeping a secret: For the past 300 years he has been building cabins around a lake to house the Inner Circle and any family they might have. Five years after the end of ACOWAR, the cabins are finished and the Inner Circle descends for two weeks in paradise. **This fic is celebrating 5,000 followers for my page Rhysand-vs-Rowan on tumblr!**





	1. Chapter 1

##  **The Cabin By The Lake: Chapter 1**

 

Lush, green fields seemed to stretch on forever, utterly untouched by civilization.

Shades of green and gold Feyre had never even  _seen_  intertwined with one another under an endless blue sky. The cool summer breeze tickled her ear and brought only a  _hint_  of pine from the still-distant mountain forests. A clear, dazzling river snaked beneath them as they flew.

It was the most beautiful thing Feyre had ever seen.

“I think it’s time everyone took a break,” Mor tapped Feyre’s shoulder, jogging her from her daze. Mor’s eyes were fixed on Azriel, and the sweat dripping down his neck.

Feyre nodded, passed the message along to the others, and the group angled for landing.

Every time they stopped the landing was a little faster and a little harder. This being the third time they’d landed, a couple of the winged fae came closer to  _crashing_. 

None more so than Azriel.

“Anyone wants to get a drink or cool off in that river, I’ll slow the surface down.” Varian offered. He patted Azriel’s arm as the male released him and Amren.

“Water.” Azriel panted. His face was bright red and when he followed Varian to the river’s edge, he shook his arms to try and alleviate the trembling.

Feyre set Mor down, red-faced herself, and tried to roll her aching shoulders. Cassian was only too happy to let Lucien step out of his grip, and Rhysand set Elain down delicately on the tall grass.

“How do you do it?” Feyre panted as Rhys came to massage her neck, “Look at you- you aren’t even winded.”

“I probably will be after this last leg. It’s my turn to carry two. I think I’ll take Varian and Lucien- not great conversationalists, but they’re the heaviest.” Rhys kissed the back of Feyre’s head and added with a whisper, “Elain is lighter than Mor. Amren is the lightest, but she keeps squirming around. I don’t think she’s a fan of being  _flown_ places.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Feyre reached back to squeeze Rhys’ hand and he released her. She intertwined her fingers with his and they headed for the river’s edge to get a drink with everyone else.

“How close are we?” Azriel nudged Cassian once he’d taken his fill.

Cassian looked at the mountains around them, “Another hour and a half. We’re going  _into_  the wind and traveling a bit slower than I thought.” He turned to study Feyre, “How are you doing? I’m willing to pull double-duty if you need a break.”

“I’ll make it,” she promised.

“You sure? You’ve never done a long haul like this before. It’s a whole different kind of flying.”

Feyre just shrugged (then winced) and stepped up to Varian’s side, “Not going to lie, I’m glad we’re getting a couple week’s break.”

“After this I promise we can winnow,” Cassian’s smile was apologetic, “thank you for humoring me.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, “You didn’t give us much choice, did you? You just got  _back_  from your vacation, yet here you are taking another one.”

“As long as nothing bad happens while we’re away, a group trip sounds like a lot of fun.” Lucien smiled brightly.

Reflexively, many in the group looked to Elain for confirmation. 

She sighed, “Well, Cassian said I’d be dead to him if I looked at  _anything_  regarding this trip or where we’re going, but Velaris will be fine, the Hewn City will be its usual horrible self, and no other Courts are looking at Night right now- including those wretched human queens. So… Best I can tell, it’ll be all fun and games… If that’s what it’s supposed to be.” She shrugged.

Cassian was being  _obstinately_ cryptic about this entire trip. No one even knew where they were going or how long it would take when they set out this morning. All they knew for sure was that Cassian said no luggage was needed and Nesta was already  _wherever_  they were going preparing lunch for the group.

“If we’re running slow, do you need me to pass along an updated arrival time?” Rhys dunked his entire head in the river before asking the question.

“No, we factored in buffer time before the meal.” Cassian smiled.

“Any hints? We’re close-  _please_?” Mor took a drink.

“No hints.” He shook his head firmly. Cassian had  _never_  put so much effort into keeping a secret as he did this one. It was impressive- but still monumentally annoying.

No one in their party tried anything else to wring information out of Cassian. They’d been trying for three months- ever since he set the date for this vacation. He conspired only with Nesta, and the two of them were an impenetrable vault. All the others knew was that they had to be ready to go bright and early, the Illyrians (and Feyre) would be flying, and the rest would have to be carried. Cassian wouldn’t even give them enough information to  _winnow_  to this secret place.

“We’re on the border of Lord Eredem and Ilkin’s territories,” Rhys scratched his head and pointed south, “or at least, if we go about twenty miles that way we will be.”

In the five years she’d been High Lady of Night, Feyre had made a point of developing a decent mental map of her territory. She  _still_ didn’t know quite where Tamlin’s estate was in Spring, and she’d been there for half a year in all. The geography of the Night Court was something she’d studied from basic topography all the way down to who owned which land.

She felt Rhys slip into the antechamber of her mind where that map of Night was currently settled. She put a red pin where she thought they might be, and he adjusted it only slightly. They were in a sort of no-man’s land of the Illyrian Steppes- unclaimed territory.

“Cassian?” Rhys frowned, “Are we going into the spirit camps?”

“Yes.” Cassian flashed him a thumbs-up.

“Spirit camps?” Varian waited until Amren had her fill of water before he stepped away from the river and released whatever hold he’d taken on the current. The sound of running water increased exponentially as the uppermost layer of the water picked up speed once more.

Azriel actually looked impressed that Cassian was taking the group into that mysterious territory, “The Illyrians believe the souls of the dead who don’t move on into the afterlife have their own land on the northern edges of the steppes. ‘Spirit camps’ are exactly what they sound like. Their existence has never been verified, but all the northern camps claim to have seen them in the distance, and plenty of Illyrians sent to investigate strange lights or mysterious voices have been found dead from apparently nothing at all.”

“Save it for tonight,” Cassian patted him on the shoulder with a grin, “I love a good ghost story.”

“I don’t,” Elain shivered. Lucien instinctively moved to his wife’s side and surrounded her in a cocoon of warm air.

“How much risk is in this journey?” Varian had long since given up trying to read the Illyrian’s faces for signs of danger. They seemed to  _enjoy_  running headfirst into any manner of trouble. Besides, Cassian had a bit of a reputation in Summer. 

Any time Varian caught himself thinking of the male as nothing more than the group’s comic relief, he remembered the ruined building in Adriata and the sheer  _death_  on his face when he led the Illyrian legions against Hybern. A male like that wasn’t afraid of anything a rational faerie would consider dangerous. Risk though- Cassian at least understood that word.

“No risk at all,” Cassian promised, “and I mean that in  _your_  sense of it. It’ll be a ghost-free trip.”

Everyone looked to Elain, who paused for effect but didn’t bother touching her power, “I don’t feel like there is any threat against us.”

“If anything goes wrong, I’ll call Bryaxis,” Feyre said.

“ _Why are you friends with that thing_?” At the mention of his arch-enemy, Cassian paled.

“Cassian, it’s been five years since he started talking to us, how are you still scared of him?” Feyre rolled her eyes.

“HE. TRIED. TO. EAT. ME.”

“ _Once_. One time.”

“YEAH, WHICH IS WHY I’M NOT A FAN!”

Rhys bit back his laugh and looked to Cassian with his most stern expression possible, “He said he’d be willing to apologize if you’d just visit.”

“HE’LL APOLOGIZE, THEN EAT MY LIVER!”

“At least he’ll apologize first though.”

“It’s a losing battle,” Lucien shook his head, “and I don’t know about you all, but I’m feeling a bit peckish. Maybe we should just head wherever we’re going?” It was a lie, but with only a  _little_  grumbling Cassian nodded and the group divided once more. 

In truth, ever since the spirit camps were mentioned Elain had been weary, and he could feel that fear whispering down their mating bond. She shot him a relieved half-smile and squeezed his fingers.

The Illyrians waved over their wing-less cargo, and Rhysand did indeed take Varian and Lucien. Feyre missed the subtle look between Cassian and Azriel- but Mor tracked it, and the twitch of her eyes told Feyre something was afoot.

“I get Elain, don’t baby me,” she said.

Cassian had an arm out to pull Elain  _and_  Amren in, but he froze, “I wanted to race Rhysand, he won’t put money on it if we don’t have two each.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, “Seriously, Cassian? That’s the best lie you could come up with?”

“You didn’t exactly give me time,” he snapped.

“Feyre, we don’t mind the extra weight, and you’ve never tried this distance carrying another person. You made it most of the way- don’t strain yourself.” As Feyre’s flight tutor, Azriel was in the best position to get her to agree. Five years into their training and she was doing pretty well, but they didn’t have enough time to prepare her body for the added weight of a second person.

Feyre waved an unsure Elain over, “I made it this far, and I’m fine. I’m going all the way and if I overdo it then I’ll have two weeks to recover and can winnow back to Velaris anyways.”

 _What if I ask you to let them help?_  Rhys whispered in her mind.

_I can do this._

_I know you can, I do. I just don’t want to see you hurt yourself. I have plans for you tonight._  He winked at her.

Truthfully, Feyre wasn’t entirely sure she could make it another hour and a half. Her wings were exhausted, and her muscles beginning to cramp. However, every time they stopped for a break the Illyrians shuffled around which of them was carrying two. One passenger each would have been simple work for the males, two wouldn’t be difficult over a shorter distance, but even sharing the extra weight, it was beginning to take its toll. 

Feyre couldn’t look at the males straining themselves and not do anything to help. Besides, Cassian had been taking this trip every couple of days for the last week to help Nesta prepare. He had to be exhausted.

Elain stood on Feyre’s toes and waited while her sister lashed their bodies together with magic. She wrapped her arms around Feyre’s shoulders and before the males could argue with her any further, Feyre launched into the air and headed towards those distant mountains. Cassian flashed her an apologetic smile as he blasted past to lead the way.

 _I asked them to do that_ , Rhys brushed a phantom kiss to her lips,  _please don’t be angry_.

 _I’m not angry_ ,  _just disappointed and frustrated that I’m not helping share more of the load._

 _If it helps lighten your mood, would you like me to show you what I’m going to do to you tonight?_  A few images flickered through Feyre’s mind of Rhys’ face between her legs.

_Only if you want me to do the same. You don’t mind flying with two males and an erection, right?_

“Rhys is smiling,” Mor called out from Azriel’s arms, “if you two are being gross- knock it off.”

Rhys raised a large bubble of air around the group so that they could speak as they flew, “Just a little harmless teasing Mor.”

“She’s just grumpy because her lover couldn’t make it.” Cassian laughed. Amren flicked a sensitive spot on his wing in a very  _unfriendly_  way, “Ow! Evil little pest, not while I’m flying!”

Mor wasn’t bothered by Cassian’s taunt, she just rolled her eyes, “While I’m overwhelmingly grateful you all have been so supportive, we’re just not ready for you all to meet yet.”

“What does that mean?! We’re delightful!” Cassian turned his body just enough so that he could see Mor in Azriel's arms.

“You’re also insane and she’s shy.”

Azriel snickered and Feyre bit back her smile. 

Mor had been so worried about how the males would respond to her longest-kept secret… only to find out they’d guessed long ago. Hell, Rhysand apparently had been conspiring with Rita to fix Mor up with different females over the past few  _centuries_. Mor was a different fae entirely with her secret out in the open at long last- one who was happier, brighter, and more self-assured than ever before.

It wasn’t until they all saw her  _without_  the weight of that secret that they realized what kind of toll it had been taking on her their entire lives. Mor had cried as she told them- just as she’d cried with Feyre- and braced herself for rage or dismissal. Instead, They’d each offered her a hug and apologized  _profusely_  for anything they may have done by word or deed to make her feel as though she  _couldn’t_  tell them.

Azriel, the one Mor was most worried about, had pulled her into a tight hug and simply said, “All I will ever want is to see you happy. I don’t care who that is with, as long as they are worthy of you.” His words only made Mor cry harder, and ever since that day everything had changed between them.

Somehow, knowing there wasn’t even the hint of a  _possibility_  of a chance something might begin between them also seemed to lift a weight off Azriel’s shoulders. He didn’t look at Mor with that aching love in his eyes, and the two seemed more relaxed around one another. They could joke and laugh more openly, and even when Mor announced just a few months ago that she had begun a relationship with a mysterious female he’d only smiled all the brighter.

Mor was so frightened of how they would handle her revelation, and even though they each had already guessed her truth, the entire Inner Circle was closer from that day on.

“Is your lady-suitor anyone we know?” Lucien asked.

Mor chewed on her lip, “ _Maybe_. I’m not saying.” She poked Azriel in the ribs, “What about  _your_  mystery female? Is  _she_  anyone we know?”

“Maybe. I’m not saying,” he said. Whoever she was, he’d been seeing her for some time, since before Mor came out to the Inner Circle.

“I thought we were brothers!” Cassian snapped.

Azriel shrugged as best he could, “You’re insane and she’s shy.” 

Mor  _cackled_.

They’d flown in relative silence most of the morning, but on this final leg the group laughed and joked. They were all excited for whatever Cassian had planned, and even Elain and Varian joined in the fun. It made the Illyrians, and Feyre, forget the burning in their muscles as they flew with that unaccustomed weight.

Still, Feyre’s arms were beginning to tremble when she felt something in the distance- a wall starting on the side of a jagged mountain surrounded by dense forests. The sensation was eerily familiar, and as they drew closer, the rest of the group fell into silence.

“Cassian,” Rhys’ voice was low, “why does it feel like we’re approaching  _Velaris_?”

“Did he just trick us into going in some giant circle?” Varian looked ahead to Amren.

“No,” Azriel frowned, “we’re  _nowhere_  near Velaris. We’re nowhere near  _anything_.”

Feyre cast her power out in all directions. Azriel was right- there were beasts in the mountains, probably more than a few monsters, but no sign of faerie or Illyrian life.

“You moved Velaris warding stones?” Rhysand asked.

“Don’t get mad until you see why. Actually- do the thing.” Cassian glanced back.

“What thing?” Feyre looked to Rhys.

“You promised you would do it, no questions asked.”

Rhysand sighed, bit back whatever he wanted to ask Cassian, and projected his voice to Feyre and Azriel, “Keep flying in a straight line. You’ll see a dot of light to help you stay on track. Amren, it’s just a blindfold, we’ll all have them on too. Cassian- if you make any of us crash into  _anything_  I’ll bury you in a shallow grave.”

“As long as you leave flowers every now and then.” Cassian grinned as Rhysand released his magic, covering everyone’s eyes with an impenetrable black mist. Amren closed her own eyes as the fog settled over them, and Cassian felt a guiding tether secure to his body. Wherever he flew, they would be directed to follow.

“We’re not too far out, I promise.” He called back. No one replied.

Tired as she was, being sealed in near-complete darkness didn’t do anything to help Feyre’s strength. The laughing and joking made this last leg of their journey pass quickly, but now no one seemed to  _want_ to speak. She heard the flapping of wings, Azriel and Rhysand’s hard breathing, and even felt the parting of air behind Cassian, but no one broke the silence. Elain was by no means afraid of flying, but in the darkness she tightened her grip on her sister.

That distant pressure kept growing, but none of the flying members of the Inner Circle were particularly concerned with shields. They’d each flown in and out of Velaris enough to know that the pressure was nothing more than a way to ward off outsiders until the High Lord or Lady could approve their entry. Elain whimpered into Feyre’s neck and trembled.

They flew hard and fast for the barrier, and just as Feyre began to wonder if she would need another break after all, they hit it and passed through.

“Adjust for warm!” Cassian called out. Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel altered the angle of their bodies as temperature and humidity abruptly shifted. The scent of pine was thick wherever they were, and in the distance Feyre could hear the sound of water falling into either a lake or pond.

The smell of wood was different as they flew into  _wherever_  they were. The forest scents mingled with a sharp oak, cedar, and ash smell- something bitter-edged that spoke of freshly cut wood. Birds sang in distant trees, and Feyre felt a shadow of something in the ground below. It felt almost like-

“Whatever this place is, it was created by the Cauldron,” Cassian called back. “I think it was meant for us- for all of us.”

That magic- it was pure, raw  _life_  surrounding them. Under the Mountain was supposed to be where the Cauldron’s power flowed into the world, the apex of creation. This place- it could have been where all that creation ended up. Not in some bald, barren mountain, but hidden deep in the Night Court itself.

“Land in ten seconds, there’s plenty of room, but Feyre- don’t forget to plant your feet. You’ve got Elain on you.” Cassian called back to them, then his voice boomed across whatever water was beneath them, “NESTA! WE’RE HERE!”

“What the hell did you do to them?” Nesta’s voice was distant, but they were closing in fast.

“I wanted to make sure you saw their faces too. Aanndd- LAND! Smooth, hard surface!”

Instead of gliding onto the ground and jogging the last few steps, Feyre angled her wings sharply and dropped the last few inches straight down. With Elain strapped to her she couldn’t walk, so she severed the binds and helped her sister aside. Feyre put her hands on her knees and panted. She was utterly exhausted.

“Keep the wings out a bit,” Azriel ordered as though he could see Feyre tucking her wings tight to rest them, “you need the muscles to cool down properly. Tucking them in will just make them cramp.”

Rhys’ hand found her in the darkness, and he helped his wife to stand straight, “I’m proud of you.” His lips brushed her cheek.

“Alright everyone, before Rhys drops the blindfolds, please face my voice.” The group shifted on what felt to be a tile floor. Feyre heard the soft padding of Nesta’s feet as she came to her husband’s side. “Azriel and Rhys- do you two remember when I got lost in that blizzard?”

“Which one?” Rhys and Azriel spoke simultaneously.

“When you had to send a beacon up for me to find my way home?”

“Which time?” Again, they were in sync.

Cassian’s voice carried a definite edge to it, “When I bet Az I could fly back in that storm? And I couldn’t?”

“ _Which time_?”

“ _Fine!_  Assholes.” Cassian growled, “ _Three hundred years ago_  I got lost in a storm-“

“-which time  _three hundred years ago_?”

“AZRIEL AND RHYSAND, TAKE THREE STEPS BACK.” Cassian snapped.

Feyre heard them move and-

“SON OF A WHORE!” there were twin splashes and Rhysand bellowed as he and Azriel fell backwards into water. Lucien, Varian, Mor, and Feyre burst out in laughter at the sputtering and curses hurled by the two males. 

They also each took a few steps  _forward_.

Feyre could  _hear_  the smile in Cassian’s voice, “As I was saying. Three hundred years ago I got lost in a storm. The magic in this place guided me here, and I spent those cold days under the shelter of the trees. I wanted it to be my secret, then I decided it should be  _ours_.”

Cassian waited until Rhys and Azriel pulled themselves out of the water. Feyre could hear them both growling.

“You can release the spell.”

Rhysand obeyed with a snarl, then went utterly silent. Light flooded Feyre’s eyes, but they adjusted quickly enough. When she could stand to open them-

“ _Cauldron_ ,” Mor whispered.

Alarge wooden house rose in front of them, the entire front of which was made up of windows. Balconies jutted out from the second floor, large enough to accommodate several Illyrians taking off or landing. Another balcony lined up with the edge of the roof, offering an alternative if the others were busy.

The ground they’d landed on was actually a tile porch that extended out over the lake. It was dotted with patio chairs and edged in a rail on most sides- Rhys and Azriel having fallen off the back. When Feyre turned to look around them she put a hand over her mouth.

 _Six_  identical cabins spanned the shore of the most beautiful lake she’d ever seen. The sapphire water was impossibly blue, and the distant waterfall forked as it poured out of the mountains. Each cabin had a large gathering space between them. Feyre marked sparring rings, training grounds, an obstacle course, large group dining area, and a massive bonfire- fully stocked with wood.

“I built Rhys’, Azriel’s, and ours bit by bit- and the group areas. Amren’s was half-done when I brought Nesta here. Over the last five years we finished Amren’s and built Mor’s and Elain’s.” Cassian pointed to each cabin as he spoke, excited. “We made everything ourselves- right down to the furniture inside and out. The only stuff we bought were the foods in your store rooms, the linens, some hobby stuff- you’ll see- and dishes. If it’s wood, we made it.”

“Cassian,” Rhys stepped towards his brother, but his eyes were transfixed on the scene around them, “you did all of this?”

Even  _Amren_  was stunned, and she looked at Cassian as though he were some entirely new creature.

“You’re probably going to want to go over the housekeeping spells, I don’t think I got them  _quite_  right, but,” Cassian shrugged. His grin went from ear-to-ear, and Nesta was beaming with pride at her mate.

Mor pulled them both into a hug first, then the others stepped up. Lucien held back with sheer wonder on his face, “You- for us too?”

“The whole family.” Cassian nodded. He knew Lucien had never really been part of a family before, so once the male had proven himself trustworthy they’d become good friends.

“ _Shit_  Cass,” Azriel forgot to be angry over his soaking clothes. He gave his friend a hug, but only held a hand out to Nesta to protect her from the water that was still dripping, “This is  _incredible_.”

“Wait until you see the inside of your cabin, each one is different- done to everyone’s taste.” Nesta smiled brighter than any of them had seen since the day she married Cassian, “I wasn’t great at making furniture, but decorating was always a strong suit. Oh, and everyone has plenty of clothes to choose from, if you want to clean up before lunch.” She cast an apologetic eye to Rhysand and Azriel’s soaking clothes.

Mor was gaping, “Wait, let me get this straight. Not only did you two  _build us each a house_ , we also get whole new wardrobes?”

“ _How much do I pay you_?” Rhys looked again at the cabins around them.

“More than you should, but actually this is all courtesy of Kier.” Nesta said.

Everyone but Cassian froze, “What?” Feyre took a step back, suddenly weary of the paradise around them, “Did you say-“

“Four years ago, when we were in the Court of Nightmares, Kier approached me with an offer. He pulled the whole ‘you must be sick of your little sister ruling you’ thing, said he and I should rule together, and offered to pay  _handsomely_  for reports of the Inner Circle’s actions and affairs to be used to capture or kill you all later.” Nesta smile broadly, “I’ve sent him a new fiction every week since, and he responds in gold. Oh- if your father asks Mor, you’re having affairs with  _four_  Illyrian Lords, Elain- you’re cheating on Lucien with Azriel, and Lucien is actually impotent. Oh! Feyre- you and Rhys fight  _constantly_.”

Azriel opened his mouth, but Nesta cut him off, “I only told him things that are completely false. Don’t worry, there are copies of all correspondences in your cabin for you to examine. Kier was talking long-term spying, for fae I figured that meant it was safe to keep quiet until the cabins were done. We can kill him later.” She smiled innocently.

Mor put her hands over her heart once more, stunned, “Is it my birthday?”

Feyre let out a nervous laugh, “You’re scarier than I’ve given you credit for Nesta. I’m glad you’re on our side.” She pulled her into a hug.

Nesta held her tightly, “I spent the first nineteen years of your life being a sorry excuse for a big sister. I’ll never make that mistake again. You can boss me around all you want for as long as you want, I don’t mind one bit. We’re only alive because of you.”

“You’ve given us the greatest gift possible,” Mor pushed Feyre aside to hug Nesta, “another excuse to kill my father.”

“I thought you’d like that.”

“ _Very much_ , yes.”

Cassian beamed as he accepted his hug from Mor, “We’ve been calling it your ‘moving in present’.”

Nesta thought her heart might burst as she  _felt_  Cassian’s pure, unbridled joy shining through their mating bond. This was what he’d been working towards for  _three hundred years_ , and the looks on their faces was everything he’d ever hoped for.

“I want a tour! Right now!” Rhysand was bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

“YES! Me too!” Elain grinned.

Cassian looked from Nesta to the group as others chimed in demanding tours of their cabins. He was excited, but he hadn’t exactly planned this part, “Absolutely! But- okay, each cabin is pretty different on the inside. So… which one do I show-“

“Start on one end, take us through them all.” Amren ordered. When the others looked to her she shrugged, “What? I’m nosey. I want to see.” The truth, which the others picked up on quickly enough, was that Cassian was  _so proud_  of his work it was the only gift they could give him in return: letting him show off each and every home, and see the reactions of those who would live there.

“All in favor?” Rhys raised his hand. Everyone followed suit, “Full tours of all the cabins! Nesta- is that alright with-“

“Lunch is fine whenever, don’t worry.” She smiled broadly. Actually, she’d burned part and needed Cassian’s help to start over. She wasn’t the cook of the two, but since Cassian had to fly the others to the lake she’d ended up with the task of preparing lunch.

Cassian led them through each and every cabin with a wild grin on his face that only grew each time they complemented his work and admired how perfectly suited each and every cabin was to the couple he’d made them for.

Elain and Lucien’s was done with pale yellow walls and shining honey-oak furniture. A large (and empty) herb garden wrapped around the side of the house with all the tools and supplies Elain would need to plant it exactly as she wished. The sitting room was overflowing with books on botany, recipe collections, and a healthy section of war epics that Lucien was practically addicted to. Cassian had built a small forge in the back, stocked with everything Lucien needed to make simple blades. It was a hobby he’d taken up in Spring that drew him into the blacksmithing quarters of Velaris at least once a week. 

The master bed had been carved to look as though it was growing out of the floor itself, and as the Inner Circle filed out to see the rest of the upstairs, Cassian nudged Elain and Lucien and showed them the hidden buckles and loops for their decidedly sinful nighttime fun. He patted both on the shoulder and they filed from the room, red-faced.

Mor’s cabin was done  _solely_  to her taste with gilded furniture and thick scarlet rugs covering the floors. The wine cellar was stocked with her favorites from the vinyards around Velaris- the greatest selection being from a vineyard Azriel himself owned. 

Her closet was the most difficult for Nesta to fill. She’d gone from shop to shop in Velaris, the Hewn City,  _and_  snuck into a few other courts looking for something that screamed “Morrigan”, all with no luck. In the end she’d reached out to Viviane, High Lady of Winter, and Abra, the Governess of the Palace of Thread and Jewels in Velaris. Abra had come up with a dozen new designs  _just_  for Mor, and Viviane had sent a few people winnowing to the human realm to find new fashions that her friend would enjoy. Evidently the selection pleased Mor- when they finished the tour of her cabin she stayed behind in her closet to try on  _everything_.

Next was Rhysand and Feyre’s cabin. This one was outfitted with special fae lights angled towards the walls to illuminate artwork Feyre would one day hang. A few pieces that Feyre thought she’d painted for Nesta and Cassian were already on the walls- landscapes of Velaris as viewed from the sea. All the books in their cabin were a mix of epic adventures and sultry romances- anything Nesta had noticed Feyre reading. A specially enchanted desk covered most of one wall in the study and was linked to Rhysand’s desk in Velaris. Whatever he might need to work on, he’d be able to summon it in an instant. Most of Rhysand’s hobbies were based outdoors, and the group spaces held  _plenty_  of sports equipment to keep him entertained.

Cassian and Nesta’s cabin was simple and homey- and by far the most lived-in. It had served as Cassian’s base of operations as he built the rest of the complex, and most of the books inside were still devoted to everything construction. 

Before he married Nesta, Cassian had cleaned out one of his planning rooms and converted it into a little office for her. Inside were five bookcases full of designs, rough sketches, paint samples, and wood stain chips relevant to specific cabins. She blocked the book cases marked “Amren” and “Azriel” from sight as best she could. 

No surprises would be ruined.

Azriel’s cabin was dark- his curtains all black-out ones and he had fewer windows than the others (though the entire lake-facing side of the home was still glass). Silk sheets hung from the ceilings throughout and rich blue rugs embroidered in silver cushioned every step. The home was full of shadows and dark corners, and it had fewer open spaces than any of the others. At first, Nesta had been apprehensive about creating such structured chaos in the design, but Azriel’s face lit up like nothing she’d ever seen before. He took one step inside his new home and exploded into pure shadow that seemed to dance throughout, as though he were sampling every last scrap of darkness.

When his form solidified once more, he was breathless with excitement. “This is nicer than the House of Wind,” he grinned broadly. “And I can winnow, so I can just live here all the time if I want!” Cassian laughed and clapped his friend on the back.

Amren and Varian’s cabin was the most difficult for Nesta to design, and in the end she had to reach out to Tarquin for help. Sea-glass mosaics filled the base of all the washroom tubs, and delicately painted tile served as baseboards and framing on the arched doors. Mother-of-pearl tile covered the floor beneath hand woven rugs that looked like clouds or seafoam. As much sea-themed décor as she’d filled their home with, she put just as much pearl inside in a nod to Amren.

Nesta tried not to study the little fae’s face too much, but she was mildly terrified. Her apartment in Velaris looked like nothing more than a vessel to contain and shelter her, with very little to indicate Amren’s personal style. She’d acted largely on guess work of what her friend might like. Amren shook her head and turned to Nesta, “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Varian could only nod, open-mouthed.

When everyone at last went off to their own cabins to clean up and change, Cassian was practically  _skipping_ hand-in-hand with his giddy wife.

“I can’t believe they did all of this,” Feyre shook her head. She walked back to the cabin with a hand over her heart and Rhys’ arm on her shoulder.

“It’s incredible.” He agreed.

“How long have you known about it?” She nudged him, “Your performance was perfect, but I know you.”

He snorted, then put a shield of air around them just in case Cassian had doubled back for any reason, “It wasn’t  _entirely_  an act… I knew the  _second_ he touched the Velaris ward stones three hundred years ago. I followed him out here a few times and waited to see what he was doing. When I realized he was building something, I stopped coming. I figured it was his job to tell me when he wanted to.”

Feyre stood on the tips of her toes to kiss Rhysand’s cheek, “You’re a good brother.”

“I know, I’m pretty damn special,” he said.

“’Special’, ‘wet’, ‘stinky’.” Feyre shrugged, “Really a lot applies to you.”

“Well, my darling mate,  _you_  smell like a wonderful-“

“-be honest-”

“-ly sweaty fae in  _desperate_  need of a shower.” Rhys waved a hand in front of his face, “ _Cauldron boil me_ , you stink. Wow, my eyes are watering right now. You know, I might be going blind from the stench alone.”

Feyre laughed and shoved Rhys as hard as she could. Either through her abilities or because he was in a good mood, Rhys went sailing foot-over-head into the lake once more.

When he surfaced only far enough for Feyre to see those violet eyes lock on her, she screamed at the mischief in them and took off running for their cabin at top speed. If her wings weren’t so damn tired, she’d have flown.

Rhys burst out of the water, his wings re-formed behind him, and just as Feyre got a finger on the door, he snatched her up and shot up into the sky. When they were even with the cabin roof he dropped her straight into the middle of the lake.

She hit the water hard- but a cushion of air he threw around her back kept her wings from being jarred too much. Still, when she tried to breach the surface of the lake, her wings just kept pulling her back in. Amusement shifted towards panic as Feyre tried to kick and her curved wings filled with water. She gained less than an inch, and the surface was still far above.

Her stolen power from Summer thrashed in her veins, but it was more attune to salt water than fresh, and in her growing fear it wasn’t exactly responding. A bubble of air formed around her mouth as the darkness closed in.

 _Relax._  Rhysand commanded softly.  _Stop moving_   _I’ll show you what to do._

His voice in her mind, more even than the oxygen he’d supplied, calmed that frightened piece of her soul. Feyre obeyed and she felt his power circling her wings. Slowly, it pushed against them until they were stretched out awkwardly behind her. It felt odd and unnatural, but when Feyre kicked her legs the magic shifted the wings slightly so that just the ends swayed in the water behind her, aiding her movement.

A ripple went through her wings, less of a full flap and more of a roll. Feyre gave a few hard jerks in that strange position before she managed to replicate the round way in which she had to shift her wings. When she got it right, the effect was immediate.  Feyre shot through the water for the surface, broke free of the water, and actually managed to rise a few feet in the air- enough for her to suddenly snap her wings around again and take off. 

It was awkward, something pulled in her left shoulder, but she was free.

And pissed.

“RHYSAND! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Rhys was nowhere to be seen.

Azriel stood on the balcony of his cabin with raised eyebrows, “I wouldn’t have suggested learning to swim like that.” Amusement danced in his eyes.

Feyre flipped him off and shot for the cabin. She was going to rip Rhysand apart for that little stunt (even if she was the one who started it).

She landed on the balcony hard and only the magic embedded in the house kept her from ripping the door off its hinges as she entered. The upper sitting room was empty, but Feyre followed Rhys’ scent to their bedroom, then through it and into the bathing room.

He was sitting innocently in the large marble tub. When Feyre entered he slapped an arm over his nipples, forced a loofa beneath the water to cover his crotch, and gasped, “ _Feyre! A little privacy would be nice!_ ”

“Prick.” She spat.

Rhysand only smirked and dropped the scandalized act, “Turnabout is fair play. And besides- I wouldn’t let you come to any harm. You could have dropped the wings any time.”

Feyre’s cheeks heated- he was right, and it was the one thing she hadn’t thought of in her mild panic, “That’s beside the point!”

“Just remember: if you kill me, you won’t get to enjoy it for long.” He held up his tattooed arm and smiled.

“You’ve never been so-“

“Handsome? Sexy? Desireable?” Rhysand purred.

“ _Punchable_.” Feyre said. Rhys pouted, which only made her snort, “Oh wait, it’s even  _more_  tempting now.”

“My mate hates me  _that_  much.  _Sigh_.”

“You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

Rhysand laughed at last and-  _dammit_ \- a half-smile crept onto Feyre’s face, “Would my mate allow me to bathe her to make up for my  _completely immature_  behavior? I mean, throwing someone in a lake- that’s just childish, base, undignified, and downright idiotic.”

Feyre growled a warning, but began to tug her wet clothes off all the same. Rhysand swallowed hard when her shirt came off. His eyes were locked on her breasts with predatory focus- at least until she pulled her pants down. Then he didn’t know  _where_  to look. He licked his lips.

She stepped down into the tub, moaning at the delicious heat of the water. Her muscles were beginning to ache from the exhausting flight, and her shoulders felt suddenly stiff. She’d carried Mor most of the journey, then Elain. Neither female was exactly  _light_ , especially when it took so much more effort to keep them both in the air.

“Put the wings away for a little bit,” Rhysand murmured, “you’ve cooled down enough.”

Without a second thought, they vanished in black mist. Feyre glared at Rhysand as she walked over to him. He put his hands on her hips and turned her slowly so that her back was to him, then tugged her down into the water. Feyre groaned as that heat completely enveloped her.

Rhysand held her against his chest, arms wrapped around her stomach, and rested his forehead on her shoulder, “Am I really in trouble?” A hint of genuine worry lit his voice.

“It depends on how good the bath is,” she murmured, then leaned her head back to kiss his temple. “I’ll get my revenge later if need be.”

“I look forward to it.” Rhysand kissed just behind Feyre’s ear. He hesitated, then huffed, “You’re cold.”

“ _Someone_  put me in a lake… After I threw them in.”

“Oh, you’re acknowledging that now?” he laughed, then picked up the loofa from where it floated. He held it over the back half of Feyre’s head and gently squeezed hot water onto her scalp. Goosebumps rose across her skin, and Rhysand smiled as she let out a long breath of air.

Their bath wasn’t sexual- both knew if they started that up they’d be late to lunch. Rhys simply enjoyed the feeling of his mate against his skin, and the happy little noises she made as he massaged shampoo into her scalp and rubbed some of the building ache from her shoulders. Feyre turned on his lap and straddled his hips to wash his hair, and Rhysand buried his face between her breasts, enjoying them while she worked.

“Am I forgiven, o sensitive one?” Feyre laughed.

Rhys reached up to give one nipple a friendly pinch as he nodded, face still planted, “Am I forgiven?” his voice was muffled and he sucked on a bit of skin at the inner edge of one breast.

“For now… But once I finish rinsing you off, we do need to get out of the bath. You’re going to have to let me go sometime.” She adjusted her power to take hold of the water in the tub- glared at how much easier it was now than in the lake- and directed a stream to pour over Rhysand’s head until every last bubble was washed away.

“All done?” he asked her chest.

“All done. Now let me go so I can stand up.”

Rhys grunted something that sounded like “Nuh-uh” and shook his head. He adjusted his arms around her torso so that her breasts were more firmly pushed against his cheeks.

“Can you even breathe now?” Feyre raised an eyebrow.

“ _Nuh-uh_.” He grunted again and stood. Feyre laughed as Rhys carried her blindly from the tub. He kept shaking his head, rubbing his eyes against her breasts. Rhys made happy little noises for a while, then stopped beside the vanity. He sighed, whimpered a little, and at last set Feyre down. 

Rhysand took an exaggerated gasp of air before looking at her breasts, “Goodbye, my loves.” He gave a kiss to each nipple, then grinned at Feyre, “The face is my favorite part.”

She kissed him with her eyes open and her hands on her hips, which only made Rhys break down in laugher when he stepped back. Feyre lost the ability to control her expression and in the end they were laughing together.

“You’re a  _child_.” She said at last. Rhys only giggled again.

He went off to the closet to fetch some lightweight clothing- linen pants that came only to his knees and a loose shirt. He passed Feyre some suspiciously conservative underclothes and a long, breezy dress, “Swimming clothes,” he explained. “The dress is for lunch, then you strip, the males lose their shirts, and we all go into the lake.”

Feyre held up the garments. They were a strange fabric, stretchy, and seemed designed to hug her body and stay put, no matter what. Rhys pouted as she pulled the top half on and her breasts were covered.

“Wait!” Rhys panicked when Feyre bent down to pull on her underpants. She straightened and he dove for her legs. On his knees, Rhys wrapped his arms around her hips and gave a kiss to her mound, “I didn’t forget about you darling.” He kissed her again as she rolled her eyes, “I’ll see you later.”

“Are you done? Can I get dressed?”

Rhys grabbed her hips and spun Feyre around. He kissed each side of her rear, “Ok, I’ve said my farewells.”

Feyre just shook her head and pulled up the bottoms. Rhys sighed and stood, “Three hundred and twenty eight days.”

“What?”

“Until our anniversary week.” Rhys nodded to himself, “Three hundred and twenty eight days… I think I can survive.”

She snorted and sat down at the vanity to comb her hair. On the anniversary of their mating each year they spent a week all alone, usually at the palace atop the Hewn City (since the House of Wind was still Azriel’s primary residence). During that week of passionate sex to rival their mating itself, the house rules were simple: No clothes. Rhysand and Feyre were still as giddy and in love as they had been ten years before- and they would be like that their entire lives- but something about that week was special. Everything was heightened, everything felt  _stronger_ , as though the mating bond itself were celebrating too.

“I suppose when it rolls around again we could come here, if no one else is around.” Feyre mused.

“That would be  _very_  nice. I’ve been wanting to go to the cabin we mated in but the others voted on that stupid rule.” The couples who were mated in the Inner Circle- Feyre and Rhysand, Cassian and Nesta, and Elain and Lucien- were not allowed to turn any space used by the group into their mating nest. Group spaces remained for the group. Somehow the townhouse had been lumped into that, though bedrooms were exempt from the rule.

Feyre braided half of her hair from above one ear, across her forehead, and ended with a long plait that fell down her shoulder. It would keep everything out of her face, but still let the rest flow freely.

When she turned around, Rhysand had mimicked her style with his own hair. “Am I pretty too?” he winked.

She burst out laughing and he released the glamour on his  _normally_ styled hair, “You’re in a good mood today,” she wheezed when she could speak.

“I’m in one of the most beautiful places in the world, given to us by one of my best friends in the world, and with the most incredible female ever to exist.” He sighed happily and bent to pull up his swimming shorts.

“Wait-“ Feyre slid to her knees. Rhys grinned as she lifted his cock and wrapped her lips around the tip. She brushed the tip of her tongue across the head and slipped away from it, “You’re my favorite part,” she whispered, then kissed it simply and stood, “All done.”

He grinned, “Oh no, by all means, take your time. Who am I to stand in the way of love? You two should talk some more, really catch up.”

Feyre surged forward and claimed her husband’s mouth with hers. She wrapped her hand around his cock and began to pump it, slid her other hand to the tender edge of his wing where he was most sensitive. Rhys’ entire body flinched into her touch and he held her tight.

With a simple maneuver, Feyre dropped down and slid out of his embrace. She left Rhysand breathless and stumbling, “There. Now we’re even. Have fun talking him down.” She shot a look at the  _rising_ consequence of her sudden attack.

Rhysand gaped at her, then down at his cock. He whipped a drop of precum from the tip and held it up, “Look at this! You made him cry!”

“I’ll make him  _bawl_  later.” She fluttered her lashes and pulled her dress on.

“Cruel,  _wicked_  little monster.”

“Hurry up, lunch will be ready any second.” Feyre left Rhysand with a mix of indignation and amusement on his face. As soon as the bathroom door closed behind her she let a giggle escape.

Ten minutes later Rhysand came out, nipped her ear with a growl, and they wandered down for lunch.

“Was that  _you_  I heard scream, or Rhysand?” Mor was the first one in the dining area, but the Inner Circle were all wandering over at their own pace. She had a gauzy scarlet wrap-around dress on beneath which her gold swim clothes were just barely visible. Her hair was tightly coiled and Feyre had a feeling  _she’d_  be the one to watch out for when everyone was in the water.

“He threw her in the lake, and she’s never tried swimming with wings.” Azriel crossed his arms and studied Feyre and Rhysand’s body language. When he decided their stance meant there was no trouble in paradise, he relaxed.

Elain and Lucien wandered over, her arm in his, and looked like a proper couple out for a stroll. Her lilac dress and carefully styled hair told Feyre she wasn’t planning on joining them in the water. Lucien had the same shorts on as the other males, and he kept glancing at the water as though he was tempted to dive in now. 

“Rhysand, don’t be horrible.” Elain rolled her eyes.

He grinned, “I’m always horrible.”

“That’s the truth.” Amren and Varian arrived next- both wearing only their swim clothes and not bothering with any sort of cover-up.

“Oy! Rhys, help bring the food over.” Cassian shouted from the porch of his cabin. Rhysand sent his magic towards his friend, found the outline of several large platters, and he winnowed them onto the long table.

Azriel’s eyes went wide as he saw what Nesta (and Cassian) had made. He was the  _first_  to sit down and grab what Feyre thought was some kind of towel rolled up on top of the platters. Dozens of them were neatly rolled and stacked in little pyramids, but when Rhys grabbed one to set it in front of her she was hit by a slightly spicy aroma.

They  _weren’t_  towels- they were large disks of a sponge-like bread, thin as a pancake but filled with tiny pockets of air. Rhys shoved his entire roll into his mouth and grabbed another. He nudged Feyre and nodded encouragement. She tore off a corner of hers and tasted it. There was a spice to it she couldn’t place, but beyond that it wasn’t too different from sourdough bread.

“It’s called injera, it’s an Illyrian thing, and they’re all addicted to it.” Mor cast a worried look from Rhys to Azriel, in case either choked on the bread they were shoveling into their mouths, “You’re  _supposed_  to wait for the actual food.”

“This is the most important food in the world,” Azriel said with utmost sincerity, “I love it more than any of you.”

“Same.” Rhys nodded.

“Then why have I never seen it before?” Feyre liked Illyrian food, but they rarely ate the complex dishes in the house. It took a long while to prepare, and the spices were difficult if not impossible to find in Velaris. Still- the way the males were shoving it in their faces surprised Feyre.

“Because Cassian is the only one who can make it right and he says if we have it too often we won’t appreciate it.” Azriel swallowed.

“I’ve been with you for five years.”

“Right,” Cassian came up behind her, “so it was time to make it again.”

“He makes it for  _me_  whenever I ask,” Nesta smiled.

They were each carrying massive, heavy platters lined in injera and piled with different shredded meats and pastes. When they set them down, a cacophony of smells warred for Feyre’s attention, each more delicious than the next, “The more red it is, the hotter it is. Don’t touch the black stuff, Elain. The green is mostly avocado, and the pale stuff is chicken.” She sat down across from Cassian and grabbed a tube of bread. Nesta waved a hand and short glasses of cold milk appeared in front of everyone to help with the spices.

“Like this,” Rhysand nudged Feyre. He pulled a sliver of injera from his  _third_  roll and used it to pinch the thick meat of a red stew. Using the bread just as Feyre would a spoon or fork, he brought the meat to his mouth and ate the entire thing.

Feyre tore off some bread and angled for a paler part of the dish, one less spicy than what Rhys had chosen. She was aware of everyone’s eyes on her as she pinched the meat into the bread and took a bite.

It was the most incredible thing she’d ever tasted. The slightly sour flavor of the bread didn’t just mix with the sharp spices of the stew- it  _enhanced_ them. Cinnamon, cumin, ginger, cardamom, and spices she couldn’t even  _begin_  to name mixed together in the best ways possible. The meat dissolved in her mouth, lending its taste to the other flavors. 

Feyre looked up wide-eyed to see the others grinning.

They launched themselves at the food. Varian was used to softer flavors that accented seafood more, but once he had a taste of the black dish even the Illyrians were eating sparingly, he was in love. No matter how red his face got or how much he was sweating, he refused to even  _consider_  the palate-cleansing side of either platter.

“You’d better not make yourself sick,” Amren nudged him even as she took her  _fourth_  bite in a row of the black dish.

Varian only kissed the tip of her nose before going back to his food.

Mor seemed to favor a slightly orange dish she explained was something akin to chicken curry. Feyre only managed a handful of bites (literally) before the spice forced her towards the avocado. Usually she avoided the green mush like the plague, but she needed something to cool her mouth. 

Elain ventured as far as a pale red stew before quickly and emphatically returning to the mild side of the platter.

Lucien only knew Illyrian cooking from the first days after their war with Hybern and the few dishes Cassian had prepared for the group over the years. Still, his tolerance of spice was roughly equal to Rhysand’s, so he followed the High Lord around the platter, pushing even his tastebuds to their limits.

Eventually the spice of the injera built up in Feyre’s mouth and  _everything_  tasted too hot. Content with what she’d eaten, she picked up a glass of milk and downed the entire cup in one go. Mor and Elain finished moments later, with Lucien, Amren, Nesta, and Varian following.

They watched as Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand began some sort of unspoken competition. They kept eating, casting sharp glances to one another all the while. Eventually their breathing became more labored, their swallows harder, and their bites smaller. Still, they would not stop.

Feyre frowned, “Is there some benefit to being the last one to finish? A superstition or something?”

Mor rolled her eyes, “No.”

Rhysand and the other two males answered at the same time she did, “Yes.”

They ate until even those watching were uncomfortable. Only when Azriel snatched the very last chunk of injera off the bottom of the stew platter were they finished. All three were slightly green, and even as Azriel pumped his fist into the air to signal his victory, his expression was closer to regret.

Nesta sighed and snapped her fingers. The table filled with steaming hot mugs of green tea, “Drink it you idiots, it’ll help.”

“I have more teff,” Cassian moaned to the males. “We’re going to have a rematch at the end of week two.”

“It’s Illyrian for lunch every day,” Nesta informed the others. “By the end of it we’ll  _have_  to winnow back to Velaris. If they keep eating like that only Feyre will still be able to fly.”

“That’s probably true,” Rhysand was completely serious as he drank his tea. “We’re safe from Cassian’s cooking in Velaris, it’s just a pain to get the right spices and winnowing to the camps for ingredients is tedious.”

“I planted a spice garden,” Cassian smiled. “It’s out where I grew the lumber for the cabins, but there’s a whole field. The growers guild in Velaris taught me a few spells to make it largely self-managing.”

“Oh that’s dangerous,” Azriel laughed, “now we know how to get more out of you. You’re the best cook in the Inner Circle, and the best homebuilder,” he raised his mug in a toast. Everyone let out a cheer of agreement as Cassian smiled. “Nesta is the best at designing,” he toasted her next.

Mor nodded, “That closet is  _magical_. Where did you find everything?”

“Abra,” Nesta smiled, “and Winter has some trading ties with the human lands. Viviane made some inquiries and had some stuff brought back for Abra’s people to replicate.”

“I assume Tarquin supplied all the shells and sea glass?” Varian asked. Nesta nodded, “What you two did with it is  _amazing_. Don’t be surprised if he tries to get you both to help remodel the palace in Adriata.”

“I’m sorry, but I have a strict rule when it comes to Summer,” Cassian put a hand over his heart, “demolition only.”

“Will  _someone_  please tell me that story?” Feyre rolled her eyes.

Cassian and Varian looked at one another for a long while before both shook their heads, “Funnier if we don’t.” Cassian said.

“We’ll tell you… On your five-hundredth birthday,” Varian smiled.

 _Tell me._  Feyre shot the thought at Rhysand.

He put a hand over his heart and looked scandalized, “Feyre! You would have me  _dishonor_  my  _friendship_  with these males by betraying their wishes?!”

Cassian gasped, “ _Feyre?!_  Traitor!” He pouted, “See if I build  _you_ another house this century.”

Lucien snickered into his tea. Elain and Nesta just rolled their eyes. Mor and Amren were nodding along with Cassian’s offended act, so Feyre knew  _they_  wouldn’t be any help.

“ _Fine_. I’ll wait.” Feyre made a mental note to write Tarquin, Cresseida, and Alis. Cassian and Varian might get to the first two, but Alis was  _her_  friend. As a citizen of Summer, she had to know the story of the Night Court monster who destroyed part of the capitol. “Wait- I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before, but I have a question.”

“You can ask, but we won’t answer.” Varian crossed his arms.

“Cassian was banned from Summer for the incident, and you all thought the Night Court was just a bunch of brutes back then-“

“My actions may have cemented that belief,” Cassian took a long drink of tea as though he were proud of himself.

Feyre waved him off, “My question, I guess, is why  _he_  didn’t get a blood ruby. We just stole a  _book_  and Tarquin was ready to kill us. We didn’t break anything.”

Rhys winced, “I mean,  _technically_  the book we stole  _broke the cauldron_  and I had to _die_  to fix it, but yeah. Didn’t break anything. Sure. It was just a simple book theft.”

“You know what I mean,” Feyre rolled her eyes.

Varian snickered, “Oh, our father  _sent_  him a ruby.”

“I sent it back with a note that if they were trying to flirt with me they should send diamonds instead.” Cassian earned a round of laughter from everyone at the table- even Amren chuckled at the memory.

“Before that day I didn’t even think my father  _knew_  how to curse,” Varian said.

Cassian patted his shoulder, “You’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“Helping you get to know your father a little better.”

Varian laughed so hard he began to wheeze.

Rhysand laid his head on Feyre’s shoulder as the conversation moved on. He was beginning to feel the strain of the flight in and the early morning that came before it- not to mention a  _very_  full stomach and the excitement of seeing the lake. He was weary to the bone, but as happy as it was possible to be.

 _Are you falling asleep, old fart?_  She whispered to his mind.

_Only a little._

_Well don’t, you still have to teach me how to swim with wings._  She sent a pulse of love down their bond, enough to let him know he was obligated to do no such thing. If he was tired, he could rest all he wanted.

“I’m going to sit in one of the lounge chairs,” Rhysand announced, straightening up. “I need to streamline my digestion so I can swim and not sink.” He looked around at the porches jutting out over the lake. Each of them had long, low wooden chairs that could recline.

“Go sunbathe princess, join us when you’re ready.” Lucien sketched a mock bow from his seat. Five years, and he finally had the courage to  _joke_  with Rhys.

Feyre stood with her mate and stuck out her tongue at the fox, her oldest friend in all of Prythian. She followed Rhysand over to the porch as the others began to strip away their cover-ups. Elain moved to Cassian’s porch and sat down on the cool tile with her skirt bunched up and her legs in the water. Lucien dropped in, mindful not to splash her, and swam around her feet. Nesta waited for Cassian to change before running and jumping as high into the air as possible over the lake. Cassian caught her and flew straight up to dump her in the water- just as Rhysand had done with Feyre (except Nesta  _expected_  her mate to do just that).

Mor and Azriel had a race from the shore to the waterfall, and Varian sprouted a tail before vanishing beneath the surface to explore the depths. Amren barely knew how to swim, and she stayed on an underwater outcropping Cassian had built, up to her neck in the cool blue water.

Everyone was so preoccupied in what they were doing that they didn’t realize until nearly an hour later that Rhysand and Feyre hadn’t joined them. Elain stood and looked over to where Rhys had gone.

He was stretched out on a lounge chair with his wings draped across the porch to bake in the afternoon sun. One arm was across his eyes, the other held Feyre against his side. Both were asleep, but whenever Feyre’s stretched wings twitched, Rhysand pulled her tighter against his body, as though even in sleep they would protect one another from anything.

Elain smiled, and both Cassian and Azriel came out of the water to see what she was looking at.

Azriel smiled softly, “I never thought I’d see Rhys so… peaceful.”

“She’s perfect for him,” Cassian agreed. “They look like nothing in this world could ever worry them…”

“Dunk them in the lake?” Azriel looked to his brother.

“Oh  _hell_  yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

##  **The Cabin By the Lake: Chapter 2**

****This Chapter contains NSFW content****

Once the sleeping Rhysand and Feyre were dropped in the lake, chaos erupted.

Rhysand roared loud enough for Varian to hear him deep underwater, and Feyre turned into a shark to hunt Azriel and Cassian down.

Thus began what would be several hours of attacks and counter-attacks traded between the Illyrians, Feyre, and her mate. She never actually learned to swim properly with her wings that first day, but she  _did_  figure out how to winnow Azriel and Cassian to the bottom of the lake  _and_  up a hundred feet into the air with their wings pinned shut.

 _That_  more than anything ended the furor before a full-scale war could be declared. Azriel and Cassian  _loved_  being dumped in the lake from so high up.

When the victims begged for their punishment, it took all the satisfaction away.

Azriel showed a lightheartedness that surprised even his brothers. He’d been raised in silence and solitude, and even after being free he usually preferred to listen and observe. Something about the lake made him  _want_  to laugh and smile, to be as immature as the rest of the Inner Circle and actually let himself enjoy the bright summer day.

The group left the lake only when the sun slid behind the mountain and cast everything to shadow. They changed into dry clothes and came together once more around the now-blazing bonfire, where Cassian and Nesta brought out strips of seasoned meat and vegetables on steel-tipped skewers. Marshmallows followed the main course and Azriel found himself passing along the sugary confection rather than blackening it in the flames as he’d always done.

“You alright?” Rhys sat beside Azriel and nudged him, “You aren’t gorging yourself on sugar. You aren’t getting sick, are you?”

“I’m fine, I just feel tired all of the sudden.” He answered somewhat truthfully.

“It’s been a long day,” Rhys agreed, “but I know when you’re full of shit. Want to talk about it?”

“Don’t need to.” It wasn’t something Rhys could fix. He loved this lake, the cabins, everything- but he also knew he wouldn’t get to spend as much time here as the others. He couldn’t do that to  _her_.

“Whenever you’d like, you know where to find me.” Rhys elbowed his brother just hard enough to jostle him. Then did it again. Then again. Only when Azriel laughed and swung back did Rhys relent.

Mor cleared her throat and glanced to Elain, “Azriel? I believe  _you_ were nominated to tell the story of the spirit camps? It’s dark and we have marshmallows, now is the perfect time.” She’d noticed his silence and unusual aversion to sugar too, but telling the story of the spirit camps always made him happy.

“Spirit camps?” Nesta looked to Cassian.

“ _Technically_  we’re at the upper edge of haunted territory,” Cassian patted her hand and smiled, “surprise?”

Nesta glared, then reconsidered and shrugged, “I guess we haven’t been killed  _yet_ , so we’re probably fine.” Her power whispered to her when death was nearby, and she sensed only life around the lake.

Elain made a face and pulled Lucien close. He let her sit on his lap and wrapped his arms around her, even though most of his focus was still on turning his marshmallow-loaded stick at just the right speed to tan it without burning anything.

Varian peeled the blackened skin off of his marshmallow and began to toast the gooey inside that had remained on his stick, but he watched Azriel with rapt attention. In Adriata, where the fisher folk ruled, tales of sea monsters and water ghosts were common. He loved a good scary story- hell, he was in love with the subject of many. What would those frightened old fishermen say if they could see the vicious Amren trying to clean melted marshmallow off her fingers?

“Don’t worry Elain, I’ll keep it mild.” Azriel promised. He cleared his throat, “The Northern tribes don’t know where the spirit camps came from, or even when they formed. No one can confirm their existence, but Illyrians lost in a winter storm often reported seeing lights on the distant hills- bonfires that were nothing more than ice-covered logs when they approached. Some reported hearing war-drums, and went out to investigate- never to be seen again.”

He lowered his voice, forcing the others to lean in, “Every now and then, bodies turn up on the steppes- males and females with pure-white eyes whose faces are contorted in terror. Imagine, a battle-hardened Illyrian warrior, scared to death without anyone hearing so much as a gasp.”

Azriel had everyone’s rapt attention (to the ruin of a few forgotten marshmallows), “Every last one of the northern tribes has reported losing good soldiers, females, or even younglings to these spirit camps. Over the millennia hundreds of bodies have been found, and  _thousands_  have gone missing. Some say the spirit camps feast on their souls, while others say they kill only to expand their undead ranks. In the history of Prythian, no camp has been hit harder by the spirits than that of Lord Serkan, five hundred and twenty-three years ago.”

Goosebumps rose on Feyre’s arms as she listened to Azriel’s tale, “Lord Serkan was an arrogant, haughty upstart who aspired to be the greatest of the northern Camp Lords. He conquered the smaller tribes, and even a few of the larger. Before he could make his big push though, in the icy cold of one fateful winter, Serkan’s greatest soldiers began to vanish one by one. Only when the fifteenth disappeared, never to be seen again, did the High Lord of Night finally hear his calls for aid.”

“The High Lord had a son- a powerful male who was training as an Illyrian soldier, a male who could easily overthrow him. That Lordling was sent to Serkan’s territory to investigate the apparent slaughter, and what he found-“ Azriel looked to Rhysand. 

They all did.

Rhysand’s face was all shadows and firelight. Feyre couldn’t tell if he’d pulled his normal darkness around for effect, or if the night was listening to the story too. “My father hoped I would perish in the territory claimed by the spirit camps. Or at least- he wouldn’t have mourned if I did. A normal High Lord’s son is inferior to his father, subordinate in power and manner. Me though- even before I assumed the mantle, my power was greater than his. I fought back against him constantly, and I think part of him hoped I would be removed from play by those spirits.”

“I went north, to Lord Serkan’s territory, and I brought with me the two strongest Illyrians in history. If I was going to war with the dead, I would have help. We kept our presence secret, posed as warriors on some sort of pilgrimage through the spirit lands, and asked all who would speak to us about the attacks on Serkan’s people.”

“Before they vanished, six mentioned hearing something in the night- a voice calling to them. They’d followed it north,  _everyone_  went north. We ventured out of the camp and for two days we wandered the wilderness, tracking down each and every body. Some males it seemed had sat down in the snow and simply waited to freeze to death; others we found trapped beneath the ice on lakes that had been frozen for  _months_ \- yet they’d only gone missing weeks ago; and some- the biggest and meanest of the bunch- we found impaled on the tops of pine trees- their tips going straight through the mouth and down the throat of their victims.”

Elain whimpered and Lucien held her tighter. He finally noticed his marshmallow was nothing but ash and set his skewer down to hold his mate fully. Feyre was staring at Rhys with her mouth ajar, and even Mor and Amren- who’d heard this story a hundred times- were listening with rapt attention. Only Varian was smiling in terrified glee.

Azriel took over the story telling once more, “It took three weeks- three  _incredibly_  long weeks- during which two more warriors vanished- but eventually we found the rift between this world and the Beyond, where the spirits crawled through at night to slaughter Serkan’s best. Rhys entered the rift himself, accompanied by Cassian and myself, and together we did battle against the Spirit Lord who ruled that camp. The battle was ferocious, and his attacks left us all more dead than alive… but eventually we overcame him, and chained his soul deep in the underworld.”

“We fled the rift, and in our wake it sealed forever. No more of Serkan’s men died that winter, though plenty of Illyrians have been lost to those spirit camps since. Their hold over the Illyrian steppes will never be broken, but that one invasion was stopped.” Azriel was whispering for effect by the end.

Elain was the first to break the silence after Azriel finished his tale, “Great, I’m not going to sleep for the whole two weeks we’re here.” Her voice was high, and Lucien immediately nuzzled her neck and began to murmur oaths of protection into her ear.

Feyre caught the glint in Cassian’s eye, and the sparkle of mischief in Mor’s, “Hold on…” she thought back through the story, and nothing caught her attention more than the Camp Lord whose men were so gruesomely murdered. Lord Serkan. Why did that name sound so familiar? It clicked into place and she let out a long, low breath, “Serkan was your-“  she caught herself before she said ‘father’. Azriel never allowed such a intimate title, “-he was your  _sire_.”

“And they were the males who guarded my cell.” Azriel smiled at the naked relief that lit Elain’s face. “I was seventeen, I’d just come into my full power, and I’d been free long enough to really hate them all. I left Serkan and my half-brothers alive so they could see their camp fall back into obscurity on the steppes. Their finest warriors- all horrific males, don’t worry- were lured out of the camp one by one thanks to a voice in the shadows. Trapping them beneath the ice was how I learned to winnow others.”

“How nice.” Feyre shivered.

Lucien was rubbing Elain’s shoulders, warming away her goosebumps, “So what about going into the underworld and fighting spirits?”

Cassian chuckled, “We walked around long enough to make our presence known, then headed off to a human city that no longer exists and bought our little Azriel his first female.”

“We all got so  _monumentally_  drunk for those three weeks that my father mistook the world’s strongest hangover as the side effects of a near-death experience with a ghost,” Rhysand said.

Feyre, Nesta, Lucien, and Varian all laughed, but Elain was still pale, “Just because that  _one time_  it was Azriel doesn’t mean there aren’t still spirit camps out there killing fae!”

“It’s alright Elain, I’ve been out here for three hundred years- all but the last five of that  _alone_. Nothing ever bothered me.” Cassian offered a smile.

Rhysand nodded, “Besides, thanks to those ward stones you might as well be in Velaris right now. None of the spirits in Night have  _ever_ threatened a High Lord or his home, I think it’s safe to say this place is immune from hauntings.”

“I would still feel better if Nuala and Cerridwen were here,” she frowned. The half-wraiths would know in an instant if there were any unfriendly spirits nearby. Unfortunately, they never ventured near the water if they could help it. Their mother was only a wraith because she drowned.

“Yeah, it would be nice…” All eyes turned towards Mor. She cleared her throat, “What? I’m surrounded by stupid, mushy couples. Who  _wouldn’t_  want more singles here?”

“You aren’t single though,” Rhysand raised an eyebrow.

“ _Here_  I am, idiot.”

He stared at her a moment, “Uh-huh… Well, out of respect for the  _singles_ , should the  _couples_  head off for the night?” It wasn’t exactly late- it was still before midnight- but he wanted to play with Feyre for a bit and break in the bedroom set. 

All couples were thinking the same thing.

“Sounds fine with me. I think Elain would be more comfortable indoors right now.” Lucien murmured a promise to put up wards against spirits.

“One little rule I’d like to put out there,” Cassian said as he stood, “no sex in the lake unless you’re the  _only_  ones here.”

Amren snickered as Varian helped her to her feet, “Too late.”

 _Everyone_  froze at that. “You never left the outcropping. We all  _saw you there_.” Cassian gaped.  

 Varian’s face went bright red.

“You couldn’t see underwater, and Varian had gills.” Amren smiled at each  _horrified_  expression. She pulled Varian behind her into the night without another word.

“I need a shower.” Cassian looked down at his body- he’d been in the lake the whole time Amren was.

“We  _all_  need showers.” Rhys agreed.

“Hey! What the hell are we supposed to do?!” Mor asked as the couples began to drift off into the night.

Cassian threw a bag of marshmallows at her.

“Jerks.” Mor grumbled. She offered the marshmallows to Azriel, but he waved them away, “So, you’re not eating sugar… Let me guess- sick from lunch?”

Azriel nodded, “A little. I may have eaten too much.”

“ _Shocker_.”

He chuckled, “I’ll stay as long as you’d like.”

“ _I’ll_  stay as long as  _you’d_  like.” She said.

“Let me guess- you’re exhausted?”

Mor breathed a sigh, “Completely. You?”

“Barely awake,” he offered a half smile. “Would you like to go to sleep?”

“I need a shower first, thanks to Amren and Varian.” Mor stood and Azriel followed suit.

“If it helps at all, we were far enough away that we’re safe.”

“It helps, but I still feel gross,” she shook her head. “I’ll kill that little old dragon.”

Azriel snorted, “I’m more impressed with Varian than anything- when did he stop being so cautious around us?”

“I don’t know, but we need to remind him what fear feels like.”

Azriel sent a shield to smother the bonfire and walked off into the moonlight with Mor, “Just so you know, if you brought your female the others would be on their best behavior.” She’d been somewhat quiet too, and Azriel guessed she was missing her companion.

“I know,” Mor smiled softly, “but this place- it isn’t ideal for her. She’d be on edge the whole time, and I really want her to be comfortable. It’s scary enough being introduced to you all as my lover, I don’t want any added stress.”

“It’s the same for me and mine,” Azriel nodded. “This is my idea of paradise- but it wouldn’t be hers.”

“I’m sorry, I know exactly how you feel.” They reached the edge of the lake and Mor reached out to squeeze Azriel’s hand, “I’m glad we can talk like this.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t sooner,” he squeezed back. “I know I was one of the reasons you were suffering for so long…“

Mor waved off his apology, they’d already had a long discussion with one another after she came out, “The past is the past. Besides- we both have someone now.” She elbowed him and raised an eyebrow, “What’s she like?”

Azriel smiled softly, “She’s amazing… I have no idea what she’s doing with me. Any minute she’ll start wondering too.”

“She’d better be worthy of you. Remember how I get if I don’t think a female is right for my boys.”

“Yeah, I still think Nesta and Cassian’s mating bond snapped in place just to spite you,” Azriel chuckled. 

Mor had  _hated_  Nesta for how she treated Feyre, when it became obvious she and Cassian had eyes for one another she’d gone on the warpath. It was only for Feyre’s sake that she gave Nesta a chance to prove herself equal to Cassian’s kindness and warmth. 

“Your female has to be worthy of you too, we’re just as protective.”

Mor smiled, “I think she is, I really do.”

“Mate?”

“ _Maybe_.” Mor elbowed Azriel again, “What about yours? Mate?”

“ _Maybe_ … I didn’t used to think so- we were together once before and it wasn’t anything more than physical. After that we managed it as just friends… The relationship started up again after Rhys came back from Under the Mountain… I think we both needed a memory of better times. But then-“ Azriel shrugged, lost for words. “The love just sort of  _appeared_  one day. I’ve never felt like this before- I didn’t even know it was possible for me. With her I just feel… whole.”

Mor smiled, “That’s  _exactly_  how I feel with mine. I think we both might have found something special.”

“Took us long enough,” Azriel huffed.

“That it  _certainly_  did.” Mor stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, “I’m going to go check on her in Velaris. Have a good night Az.”

“You too, and tell her we’re already holding a place for her in our family.”

“Tell yours that as well.” Mor smiled and vanished into the night.

Azriel took a moment to enjoy the moonlight and the chirping of crickets in the distance. He watched the waterfall and let his shadows wrap around the cabins- confirming everyone was safe without invading anyone’s privacy. 

This place- it was truly something magical.

He’d meant it when he said he wanted to live at the lake- but he knew it was unlikely to ever happen. Especially not if  _she_  really was his mate. He would never let her push herself into coming here, not when he knew how nervous it would make her.

Azriel felt something slip through the border stones- something that was utterly immune to their magic. It felt cold, like the whisper of mist through a graveyard.

He smiled at that hint of doom and left the lakeside for his brand new cabin. Azriel took his time as that feeling grew. His shadows whispered of its presence, though his other senses couldn’t detect it at all. 

That was always something he’d loved about her. The way she moved through the world as though it and she were wholly independent.

Azriel walked in through the patio door and went to a nearly panel in the wall. Behind it was the thick blue curtain that would block off the entire lake-facing side of the house. He walked the curtain across his living space, until darkness ruled uninterrupted by so much as a sliver of moonlight.

He kicked off his shoes by the door, then removed his shirt and laid it neatly over the back of a chair. Azriel could  _feel_  that presence watching him, waiting for him to go upstairs and cover the balcony windows too. He went instead to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch. Azriel leaned against the countertop and drank slowly, grinning at the frustration that flickered through the other presence.

Oh, but anticipation was half the fun.

Azriel finished his drink and set it in the sink- then turned on the water to wash it. By the time he’d dried the clean glass and returned it to the liquor cabinet he could feel that presence  _fuming_.

It was torment for Azriel as well- when he headed casually upstairs at long last his pants were  _far_  too tight.

He walked down the hall to his bedroom. His shadows filled the space, but he could feel the other darkness stroking them. Her magic sang to his, and the sensation of their power intertwined was greater even than the feeling of her hands on his wings when they made love. He was breathing hard by the time he opened his bedroom door and pulled those blue curtains across the wall of windows.

Cassian had explained that the bedroom windows were only one-way. The Inner Circle could see the lake, but even if they fully illuminated their rooms at night, not so much as a hint of light would escape to the lakefront. Complete privacy- with a view.

So when Azriel pulled those curtains closed it wasn’t for the sake of modesty, it was because across the short patio that lake was still visible in the moonlight.

The  _second_  Azriel finished closing the curtain he felt two hands on his hips. He looked down to see something like shadow brought to life slip beneath the band of his pants, felt her cool touch slip around his cock, and that other hand wrapped up his torso to his neck.

He closed his eyes at the sensation as she began to stroke him- light enough to tantalize without giving him what he wanted. The other hand wrapped around his throat not to choke him, but to feel the pounding of his heartbeat and the vibration of his heavy breaths.

Life- his little wraith always loved to feel the sheer  _life_  in him when they were together.

He didn’t give her any warning. Azriel became shadow and mist, and he whirled on her own darkness. They crashed together as he swept her towards the corner of the room. She had a choice when he pounced like that- let him shepherd her, or slip around him and leave him staggering alone until she was  _ready_  to be caught.

Azriel broke upon the wall like a wave of night itself. As his shadows crashed back, he let his physical form solidify- as did hers.

Nuala wrapped her legs around Azriel’s hips and jumped into his arms. Her lips crushed against his own, and his tongue entered her mouth. Her back was pinned against the wall, limiting where his hands could go. Azriel stroked her sides, her breasts, her stomach- until he grabbed one hip tight, pulled his cock free from his pants, and guided it into her fast and hard.

She let out a wrenching scream and held on tighter as Azriel’s body slammed against her- slammed  _into_  her. That first thrust made her eyes roll back and when she forgot to kiss him, he pinned her mouth in place with his own.

Azriel held her thighs tight as Nuala’s legs went limp. He pulled out and thrust into her once more, earning a slightly softer cry of pleasure. Her graveyard mist wrapped around his shadow and it didn’t feel as though they joined at just their hips- it was as if their entire  _beings_  were crashing together.

Nuala managed to wrap her hand again around Azriel’s throat as he ground against her. His panting cries against her lips forced the kiss apart- there simply wasn’t enough oxygen. 

Nuala and Azriel looked down as one, to watch the way her folds were parted by his thick cock. She curled her hips into his thrusts and Azriel groaned. His hips ground against the knot at the apex of her thighs and Nuala’s legs began to tremble.

One hand slid down Azriel’s torso to his ribs, where she pulled at his body, urging him to go harder and faster. She wanted him to _take_  her for his pleasure. Nuala knew he would make sure she was exhausted by the time they were finished, he never failed to satisfy, but she wanted to feel all that primal life he was capable of giving.

Azriel tightened his grip against her hips and thrust hard and fast, leaving Nuala to rely on the wall to hold her up. She was so warm and wet- he couldn’t last for long.

He pulled her away from the wall, slid out of her with a wimper from  _both_ , and laid Nuala face-down on the floor. Azriel kicked off his pants before he pulled her legs apart and knelt. He grabbed her hips once more and yanked her back onto his cock- now spearing deeper than before. It scraped against her most sensitive spot as he entered and Nuala’s body began to shudder.

Azriel crawled forward until her back was firmly pressed into his chest- until  _he_  could feel the shuddering of her heart and the pounding of blood in her veins. Thrusting at this angle meant he couldn’t go particularly fast- but his cock certainly ground harder against her. He slid his hands over the back of hers and held them tight.

Azriel licked at the curve of her ear as Nuala let out a series of short gasps. Her hips rose and her body tightened around him.

She wasn’t the kind of female who screamed as the electric wave of an orgasm crashed over her. She gasped and began to shudder as every inch of her body zeroed in on that glorious cock between her legs. Azriel moved his hands to her shoulders and slammed into her as hard as possible while her walls grabbed him in a vice and hot moisture rushed around him.

 _“Azriel!_ ” she found her voice long enough to gasp his name. When he didn’t stop moving, that wave of pleasure thrust her under again and again, until spots danced in her vision and she couldn’t stand the erotic sensations a moment longer.

Hearing her gasp his name- the blinding need and love in her voice- was his undoing. Azriel felt himself tightening and he threw himself down on her back once more so that his mouth was right beside her ear.

She was quiet. He wasn’t.

“ _Nuala! Fuck!_ ” Azriel loosed a wordless shout as he came inside her.

The sensation of his heat filling her, shooting through her with every pulse of his cock made her gasp. Azriel reached between them even while he continued to cry out with pleasure and whipped his fingers across her knot.

She couldn’t pull away from his touch, and the weight of his body against her back meant that as hard as he pushed against her, she could go nowhere. His rough hand between her legs, the thundering of his heart against her back, and his lips crying out her name sent Nuala over the edge again despite herself.

“ _Azriel_ ,” she gasped, then opened her mouth in a wordless shout as she came again- harder than before. He was only halfway through his own orgasm when her next one began. She rippled and tightened along his length, squeezing every last drop of seed from his body.

He licked her cheek when his orgasm ended, licked the curve of her parted lips until her body pulsed and the tension suddenly left her. Nuala took a hard breath as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her upper torso, pinning her to him. Her usually cold body was warm from where he’d covered her with his own- sharing some of that life she was so addicted to.

He eased himself out of her and they became shadow once more. This time Azriel guided her darkness towards the bed and beneath the covers. When they returned to their physical forms, Nuala was laying on her back, legs parted on either side of Azriel’s hips, and his mouth was already attached to her neck. She couldn’t see his hands beneath the warm sheets, but she could feel them stroking up and down her sides. His wings were tucked tight, which made it easier to maneuver beneath the thick sheets.

“Hello,” she combed her fingers through Azriel’s hair. He was sucking and nipping at the skin just beneath her breasts.

Azriel looked up with a light in his eyes few ever saw and grinned, “Hello.”

“Cerridwen went off to visit our mother, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

He settled against her body and Nuala hooked her legs around his hips, “I like this kind of surprise.” Azriel slid his arms beneath her so that he could hold her tight even as he braced most of his weight on those arms to protect her. Their hips were locked together, his cock still throbbed against her knot, but neither made a move to begin again.

Nuala looked around a bit, and as she did Azriel lowered to devour her neck once more. Their liaisons never concluded before he’d tasted every last inch of her skin, “This cabin is beautiful, and it’s just you?”

When she looked back he was forced to release her throat, “Cassian made one for each of us.”

“It feels… strange in this place.” Each time she’d climaxed some kind of power had rippled in the land below, the life of the Cauldron responding somehow to what was happening on the surface. Like an aftershock or the rolling of water after a stone was cast. It was as if their display of life fed that magic. Nuala considered the mighty well of power for any sign of danger and found none, “I like it.”

“I thought you might,” Azriel sighed and that light flickered again, “but it isn’t the only beautiful place in this world.” Azriel kissed her nose.

“You love the lake,” Nuala cupped his cheeks in her hands, “there is no reason to be ashamed of that.” 

She claimed Azriel’s mouth with her own to distract him as she searched his heart. His face was unreadable when he wanted, but the shadowsinger had never quite mastered his own darkness- and it spoke with all the honest emotion he kept hidden so well. The misty silence of her power stroked his and reached into every corner of the bedroom.

She could taste it in those shadows- the cabin meant more than he would ever say, all because of the love that had gone into its construction. It was made  _for_  him- no one else- and  _only_  with him in mind. This was a gift from his brother, and a gift from the new sister the Inner Circle had allowed into their lives. 

The lake was  _surrounded_  with evidence of Cassian’s love for his friends, a display of family, love, and life that simply couldn’t be replicated anywhere in all of Prythian.

But Azriel tried to keep that hidden from Nuala, and he was willing to find a way to compromise because the female he loved was too afraid to live with the massive lake at its heart.

“I don’t want to go anywhere else.” She whispered as their kiss broke.

“What?”

“I don’t want us to find somewhere else. I want to be here with you… and them.”

Hope shot through his darkness before he could smother it, “Nuala, you don’t have to push yourself. It’s alright.”

She shrugged in his arms, “I want to push myself, so long as you are there with me. I want you to be here with your family in this place… and I want to be here too.”

Azriel opened his mouth to argue, but Nuala seized his lips with hers. He didn’t move as she kissed him, and she could  _feel_  the uncertainty in his shadows. He didn’t want her to feel pressured, to make herself uncomfortable just for his own happiness.

But she felt the exact same- Azriel had so little that was actually  _his_ that he guarded it with his entire being. He wouldn’t have given up the cabin- he’d never do that to Cassian- but he would have spent a lifetime secretly winnowing off once the group parted for the night, or going to the cabin whenever Nuala couldn’t be with him.

When Nuala weighed that against her fear of the water, it was an easy enough choice to make.

“If you argue, I’ll be angry with you.” Nuala whispered onto his lips, “I want this. You can’t talk me out of it.”

He exhaled in a sigh, and that hope rippled through his shadows again, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Nuala laid back on the pillow and wrapped her arms around his neck, “I’m also stubborn, so don’t test me.”

“I love you,” he shook his head in wonder.

“I love you too.” She rolled her hips and Azriel loosed a shuddering breath as that light movement parted the folds of her sex. “Do you know why I always want you to take me the first time?”

Fast and hard- it always began that way for them. Three hundred years ago, after  _months_  of stolen glances in the halls, he’d walked into his chambers to find her on his bed, already naked and waiting. That night, and for the three months that followed, their initial joining of the night was always closer to fucking than making love.

The evening after Rhys, Nuala, and Cerridwen had returned from Under the Mountain, Azriel had found her back in his bed. 

The affair resumed slowly- they went  _months_  between encounters- but bit by bit the days between grew shorter and at some point Nuala claimed his heart. Even Azriel couldn’t tell when that happened. For three years now he had been with her, though as far as the Inner Circle knew he’d been dating a mystery female for the past three  _months_. He loved her so much his heart ached when she was nearby and his soul burned when he had to dismiss her without a second glance.

But still, though they always ended the evening in a lover’s embrace, they began with what he used to worry was selfish demand.

“I thought you just wanted to feel everything,” he answered uncertainly. 

Half-wraith, half-dead. 

Nuala was warm when his body covered her- hence the thick sheets they were under now. Every position was chosen so she could feel as much of him as she wanted- his pulse, his breath, his need. It was all she could feel that pure  _life_  that she was so fascinated by. Azriel thought that was the only reason for their frantic beginning- she wanted to feel a jolt of raw passion.

“At first, yes.” Nuala stroked his throat with the back of her hand and smiled at the throbbing of his pulse beneath her fingers. “I want you to take me because I want you to know that you  _can_. That I allow it because I choose to be yours, and yours alone. I choose you- above everyone else in this world- to be mine.” She brushed away the moisture gathering at the edge of his eyes, “ _My_  Azriel.”

When his lips crushed against hers, Nuala felt a tear drip onto her cheek. He made a sound that might have been a moan or a whimper and tightened his grip on her, as if he could smother her in his embrace. It was the only way he could show her how much her words meant.

Azriel would be the first (and only) person to say it was stupid- at five hundred he was still carrying the shadow of that frightened, worthless eleven year old. A child alone, without any real family. But this female- this incredible, brave female who’d gone Under the Mountain to protect their friend- she thought he was worthy of her. She  _chose_ him, when he always figured she would one day be with someone far greater than some unwanted Illyrian bastard. 

It was a long while yet before he released her mouth and returned to her neck. He wanted to taste her- but even more than that he wanted to listen to her moans as he kissed down to her chest, across her collar bone, and wrapped his mouth around the curve of her breast.

Those ruined hands of his scraped across her flesh, leaving fire in their wake. Nuala grabbed one tight and held it over her own racing heart. She stroked the rippled flesh, licked at his fingertips, and reached between them to take hold of his member.

“I want you,” Nuala whispered to him as her cold darkness was warmed by his own. She guided him into her and with a slow thrust they were joined, “I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.”

He wrapped his hands around her shoulders- not for leverage as he began to roll his hips, but to simply  _hold_  her. “I want you,” Azriel said in a broken whisper, “I want to be yours… and I want you to be mine, if that’s alright.”

Nuala smiled sadly, “If it wasn’t alright, I wouldn’t have claimed you already.” She gasped as Azriel pulled out only to slide back in slowly. “My Azriel,” she whispered. He pulled out again, then paused. “ _My_ Azriel.” He thrust once more.

“ _My_  Nuala,” he murmured before tracing her bottom lip with his tongue.

He never picked up his speed, and yet that wave began to build in them both. Azriel held Nuala with body and shadow, and her delicate hands traced along those mighty wings he kept pinned beneath the blankets.

When she was swept away by the force of her release, and Azriel found his own once more, the magic of the lake rumbled and something flickered through his dark shadows and her graveyard mist. 

It vanished faster than lightning in a storm, but if they had looked to their power- if they had  _seen_  what was beginning to wake- Nuala and Azriel would have known their claiming wasn’t just mere words. It was acknowledgement of something hidden even from their own senses.

“My Azriel.” She whispered as she came once more, and that other force flickered.

“My Nuala.” His simultaneous release joined with hers and made that power glow.

It wasn’t ready yet,  _they_  weren’t ready yet, and even though Azriel and Nuala moved together through much of the night- fate seemed content to bide its time.

The glow faded -and for a little while more, their mating bond slumbered.

—

* * *

Far too soon for his liking, Azriel woke to blinding sunlight. 

It was streaming in from the glass wall where Nuala was standing perfectly still and staring out at the lake. It looked like she was facing down some mighty predator. 

Azriel slipped out from beneath the blankets and stretched his wings as wide as they could go. He yawned and came to stand behind his lover, “Are you alright?” He rested a hand on her hip.

“I want to learn how to swim.” Nuala looked back at Azriel, “Teach me.”

He blinked a few times, “I’m sorry, my brain is still waking up and I think I heard something wrong.”

“Teach me how to swim.” Nuala looked back at the sapphire waters, “Mother died because she couldn’t swim… so if I learn then I have nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’ll always give you anything you want… But how about we start small and work our way up to that? Start simple- like walking on the patio or something.” Azriel wrapped his arms around her and held Nuala tight, protecting her from the distant water, “Don’t push yourself too much- or at all- if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Nuala shot him a look, “I want to push myself. Remember what I said last night- if you keep arguing, I’ll be angry with you.”

Azriel kissed her, “I’m sorry. I’ll help however I can.” His heart soared at her continued commitment to staying at the cabin. He felt a tug- the thrum of Rhysand’s magic helping Cassian announce breakfast was ready. Azriel sighed, “They’re gathering.”

Nuala nodded, “I suppose  _we_  shouldn’t keep them waiting then.”

Azriel’s heart nearly stopped, “What?”

“You’re mine,” Nuala looked terrified, but determined, “and I’m ready for them to know it.”

“Are you s-“

“Don’t argue,” a light sparkled in her eyes, despite her nerves. “I’m going to learn how to swim and they are going to get used to seeing me as more than a spy.”

 _Before I lose my nerve_. The words were written all over her face.

Azriel nodded, “I’m not arguing- but are you sure you don’t want to tell Cerridwen first?”

Nuala considered it. It certainly felt like a betrayal to her sister, keeping this from her for so long, but she didn’t want to wait. She  _couldn’t_  wait, or else she might waste  _another_  three hundred years with Azriel as her secret. She wanted him, and she wanted the world to know that he was hers alone.

“Let’s go get some breakfast.”

—

* * *

They walked to the dining area hand-in-hand and completely in silence. Azriel cast nervous glances to her, equally worried about how the others would respond and how Nuala would handle being so near the edge of the lake.

She trembled slightly when they rounded the side of the cabin and the dining area came fully into view. Everyone was already assembled, and they were excitedly talking over one another, bombarding someone at the far end.

They were close to the edge of the group, and Azriel hit Cassian’s back, “What are you all staring at?” he couldn’t see through everyone to the center of attention.

When an all too familiar voice murmured in response to something Feyre had asked, Nuala froze entirely.

“Mor brought her female,” Cassian said quickly, “You’re not going to believe this. It’s-“

Cassian’s eyes found Nuala- then shot down to her hand in Azriel’s. He staggered back and bumped into Rhysand, who turned to snap at Cassian.

“Did you two coordinate?” Cassian’s head whipped from Nuala to whoever had everyone so excited, then back again.

One by one, the Inner Circle’s attention turned to Rhys and Cassian- then to Azriel and Nuala. 

When Lucien and Elain shifted, Azriel found out why Nuala froze.

Mor sat at the end of the table, hand-in-hand with her mystery lover:

Cerridwen.


	3. Chapter 3

##  **The Cabin By the Lake: Chapter 3**

Cerridwen fell in love with Mor the  _second_  she laid eyes on her. 

They were young, she was only just finished with her training as Azriel’s spy, and it was her and Nuala’s first full day working as Rhysand’s handmaidens. Mor came to the townhouse to ask his advice on a problem in the Court of Nightmares and just like that, Cerridwen was hers.

Nuala knew her sister exclusively sought female companionship, she never cared one bit, but Cerridwen knew she wouldn’t approve of any relationship with someone so close to their new employer. It risked complicating the dynamic, and Azriel would likely relocate them  _far_  from the paradise that was Velaris (the existence of which they were  _still_  grappling with) if he knew Cerridwen had fallen for a member of the Inner Circle so wholly and completely...

Besides, it was obvious that Mor had no interest in females. She seemed to flit from male to male, and flaunted her affairs openly (especially in front of Azriel). What was the point in risking losing  _Velaris_  for both her and Nuala for someone who simply couldn’t feel the same way?

Still, no matter how she tried to resist Mor’s charms, that golden hair and citrus scent were never far from her mind. Cerridwen even began to  _dream_  of Mor as the years rolled by. She was hopelessly and overwhelmingly in love with a female who only noticed her when Amren made some comment about half-wraiths making her uncomfortable.

Cerridwen nursed her love utterly alone, without even Nuala to help her. It was a burden to  _her_ , something  _she_  had to carry. Even knowing that, fledgeling love turned into something whitehot that began to burn her very soul. It was a poison in her veins- one Cerridwen didn’t want to live with or without.

And then Rita’s party changed everything.

It was the Feast of Souls, about seven years after Cerridwen had entered into Rhysand’s employ. Seven years of living with an aching heart, and she needed to get that ruby and gold female out of her mind for even just one night before love drove her insane.

Rita always hosted a special masque for those who preferred the companionship of their own kind- or at least those who were open to the idea. Nuala (in month two of her three month affair with Azriel) encouraged her to go and find someone, if only for the night. She didn’t know who her twin was pining after, but it was obvious enough that she needed  _some_  fun at least… And if she was out Nuala didn’t have to lie about visiting their mother when she went to Azriel’s bed.

Cerridwen found a fine veil in the House of Wind that would serve her as well as any mask. It was made up of golden coins that sat low across her forehead. Gold and diamond links stretched beneath her eyes, and from it hung over a dozen rows of gold chain, each overlapping like the scales of a fish. From them dangled small charms, and another row of golden coins added weight to the bottom. 

It was the fashion of the southern lands for females to wear such a veil. Cerridwen’s own mother had hailed from there in life, and traveled into Night with the soul of an adventurer. In death, she was still proud of her heritage, though Night remained her chosen home. That reminder of her mother’s supporting warmth gave her just a bit of courage- and to Cerridwen that was everything.

When she’d hesitantly asked Rhysand for his permission to wear it on the Feast of Souls, he’d waved off her nerves and told her to keep it.

Nuala had helped her paint her eyes with kohl and a bit of gold dust that night. She turned the death-pale wraith into someone mysterious and alluring. With her sister’s blessing, Cerridwen went off to Rita’s.

Her makeup was such an unusual touch for the half-wraith that Rita didn’t even recognize her when she entered. The female took one look at her, decided her veil meant she wasn’t there for the party in the main hall, and waved her to a closed door leading up to the second floor. 

That  _exclusive_  party was more crowded than Cerridwen would have thought. Some were simply there to meet others, some weren’t comfortable with the masses downstairs knowing their preferences, but none were judged, and all felt safe together. Even the ones who were proudly out joined in the upstairs fray to lend support to others who might need it.

Cerridwen had seated herself at the upstairs bar and ordered a cocktail from Rita’s mate. She needed courage to speak with anyone there, and while the veil afforded her something akin to bravery, the drink was more than welcome. Rita’s mate glanced at the golden veil that ended well below Cerridwen’s chin and added a straw for the sake of ease.

“Here to meet someone, or get to know someone?” She asked after Cerridwen had a sip. “I like to play matchmaker.”

“M-meet someone?” Cerridwen answered her so quietly that the female had to ask her to repeat herself.

“If you know about this party, then you probably have an idea of what you like?” She was trying to phrase it delicately. They saw plenty of females and males who had no preference one way or the other to who they loved, but she wasn’t joking when she said she wanted to match people up.

Cerridwen couldn’t imagine walking up to someone blindly, so she decided to let Rita’s mate help her, “Females,  _just_  females.” It was the one thing she was sure about this night and every night. Males held absolutely no romantic appeal for her.

“Shy but  _adamant_ ,” Rita’s mate flashed her a smile in case her little tease caused offense. The shy ones could be sensitive and it took  _plenty_  of courage to even enter this place for the first time. She wanted the female to feel comfortable, “Do you want someone you can show off, or would you rather keep it quiet?”

Cerridwen swallowed hard, “I- I don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” the female smiled. As Cerridwen’s nerves showed, she adjusted her demeanor to keep the veiled one comfortable. “Tell me a little about what kind of relationship you’re looking for.”

“I just- there’s someone I want to forget. She isn’t like us... and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about her… I’m tired of hoping.” Cerridwen looked down as longing threatened to overwhelm her.

“Let’s make  _that_  a bit stronger,” Rita’s mate poured a splash of extra alcohol into Cerridwen’s drink. It wasn’t enough to get her drunk (unless he had two or three more), but it was enough to take some of the sting out of her heart.

Cerridwen accepted the added strength. She didn’t want to be miserable at a party, she just wanted to forget Mor for five minutes in a row. So far that wasn’t off to a great start.

Rita’s mate looked around at the crush of faeries dancing over in the darker part of the hall and considered everyone she knew who was single and a good fit for the female in front of her. 

A golden mask speckled with small rubies and adorned with a rose in the corner caught her eye.

“I think I have an idea, someone who’s a bit fiery but tends towards the quiet type. Now, she isn’t out yet, so she prefers to just keep things casual. That could be nice if you’re trying to forget someone. What do you think? Shall I make the introduction?”

Cerridwen’s heart thundered at the sudden prospect of meeting someone. It had been so long since she was with a female- all that damned mooning over Mor made it impossible for her to see another without comparing them in her mind. Rita’s mate waited patiently as she drank her cocktail as fast as the straw would allow. 

She set it down, swallowed hard, and nodded.

The female came around the bar and held out her hand. Cerridwen took it, and let herself be dragged across the room to the edge of the dance floor, where that gold-and-ruby mask had gone to catch her breath.

“I’m playing matchmaker, you open to new friends?” She stopped just behind the masked female.

Voluminous golden hair, a mask speckled with rubies to accentuate her rich scarlet dress, the scent of citrus that wafted from her skin- Cerridwen’s racing heart stopped dead.

Mor turned with a snort, “When  _you_  get involved, the safest thing to do is say ‘yes ma’am’.”

“Good answer.” She grabbed Mor’s hand and pressed Cerridwen’s into it. 

The feeling of Mor’s skin against hers made Cerridwen jump. It was like an electric shock that set her heart beating again. Mor’s eyes softened immediately at Cerridwen’s flinch. 

Cerridwen couldn’t even meet her eyes. She was trembling- simultaneously overjoyed and utterly terrified by the evening’s turn. She came to  _forget_  Mor, a female who was almost  _aggressively_  attracted to males. Now here she was holding her hand in a gathering of those who were most certainly either direct opposites of that romantic view or at most considered the matter open to interpretation.

Rita’s mate stared them both down, assessing. She finally smiled and put a hand on either female’s shoulder, “I approve of this. Lady in Red, you already know the rule. Little Golden One, we have a very strict policy here: I get invited to any weddings that may arise from my matchmaking. Agreed?”

“What?” Cerridwen squeaked.

“Just say ‘yes’, it’s the only way to get her to go away,” Mor squeezed the female’s hand and offered a smile- not that Cerridwen was up to eye contact yet.

“Yes?”

Rita’s mate smiled brightly, “Have a  _wonderful_  night you two.” With that, she turned on her heel and headed back to the bar. 

Mor released Cerridwen’s hand- but she noted how the female’s fingers curled towards her a moment, reluctant to break contact. “She can be a bit much, but she means well. She and Rita only just mated last year, she’s still stuck in that mushy phase.”

The music changed and Mor listened to the song a moment, “Dance with me? If we do it at least once, she’ll comp our next drink.” Dancing with  _Mor_  the female Cerridwen had dream of for seven years... Cerridwen’s legs suddenly went numb, “It’s alright,” Mor said, “if you don’t want to, that’s perfectly fine.”

“No!” Cerridwen said quickly-  _too_  quickly. “I-I want to. I do.”

Mor smiled at her eager response, “Alright then, it’s a slow song, so that’ll give us a chance to chat.” She took Cerridwen’s hand once more, then rested the other on her hip. Just on the outside of the crowded floor, they began to sway gently to the music. Mor could tell the female was nervous and shy. It tugged at her heart.

“I like your veil,” Mor offered. “My cousin’s family were sent a few trunks of similar ones from the southern continent after a trade deal. They’re quite beautiful.”

“T-thank you. This was a gift from my employer… I like your mask too.”

“I designed it myself,” she said with pride. “Red is my favorite color, I wear it as often as I can.”

“It suits you.”

Mor smiled, “Thank you, and if I may- gold looks lovely on you.”

They traded little complements until Cerridwen felt comfortable enough to venture towards  _actual_  conversation. She learned that Mor’s favorite food was Illyrian fried rice, that she loved winter best of all seasons, and when her friends weren’t watching, her favorite thing to do was swim in a mountain lake with nothing on whatsoever.

 _That_  made Cerridwen’s face turn scarlet, and Mor laughed brightly at the pure shock in her eyes. It put an image in Cerridwen’s mind she  _knew_  would appear in her dreams, but it also broke through more of the shy awkwardness between them.

Cerridwen offered up a little information, but mostly asked Mor questions. With the initial shock past she was  _devoted_ to learning as much about the female she loved as possible. After tonight her aching heart would surely punish her, but just for now she basked in Mor’s glow. 

This twist of the Cauldron- both a curse and blessing- only made the prospect of facing her the next day that much harder... and sweeter.

By the end of the night they were both a little tipsy from their matchmaker’s cocktails, but more than that they were utterly and undeniably under one another’s spell. As the last bell rang to signal the closing of the bar, Mor swallowed hard.

“If you’d like, we can go back to my place for one more round of drinks?” The shy hope in her voice surprised even Cerridwen, “It might be nice to… to take this mask off.”

An invitation to go to Mor’s home- and all that might follow- made Cerridwen breathless. But the thought of taking off her veil and revealing herself to the female she’d quietly loved for so long-

-she couldn’t do it. 

One nice evening wasn’t enough. 

Mor would see her and realize someone close knew her secret. She would turn on Cerridwen, run away as fast as she could, or (and perhaps even worse) go white with shock and  _beg_  her not to tell the others. Her rejection would be swift and merciless, and it could very well end with her encouraging Nuala and Cerridwen’s removal from their group entirely.

Of course, later Cerridwen would come to realize Mor would never do such a thing, but that evening she was trapped between heaven and hell- which wasn’t exactly conducive to rational thinking.

“I want to- I really,  _really_  do, but-“ Cerridwen felt like she might cry. Her dreams on a golden platter, and she had to reject it all.

Mor reached out to grab Cerridwen’s hand as it touched the veil- reminding herself it was still there to protect her. The scarlet female pulled her hand away and gently stroked her palm. Such intimate contact made Cerridwen’s breath catch and her entire body went loose and taught all at the same time.

“It’s alright. I understand.” A light twinkled in her eyes, “What if I said we can leave the masks on and revisit this in the morning?”

Cerridwen’s mouth went dry, “Y-you would w-want that?”

“Don’t tell the bartender, but… I think I might like you.” 

That shy, golden female before her had piqued her interest as the night wore on. It was clear enough that she was more afraid of Mor herself than being with another female, but her dark eyes were somehow familiar, and her quiet nature had drawn Mor in. She’d been with few females over the centuries longer than a single night, but this one she could already tell was special.

The night they spent together was nothing short of magical. True to her word, Mor didn’t push Cerridwen to remove her mask or even divulge her name as they explored what they might do together. It was the Feast of Souls, a night for drinking and celebrating  _life_. More fae went home with someone than not, and they certainly weren’t the only ones keeping at least part of their costumes on.

Cerridwen fell asleep with Mor’s arms wrapped tightly around her and their foreheads pressed together. She never slept so soundly in her life- and never felt happier.

But when the morning sun slid through the windows, she woke to the sound of Mor making them both breakfast. Mor’s mask was on the pillow beside her- an offer. 

Mor wanted to know the female she’d taken to bed, and she was not afraid of how the shy golden one may respond to seeing the  _third in command of the Night Court_  was her lover.

When they slept, Mor had a dream where she brought that female to meet the rest of the Inner Circle. In the dream everyone had smiled and welcomed her with open arms- even Azriel. Upon waking Mor  _knew_  that future was the one she wanted most. She’d opened her eyes long before sunrise (and not long after they fell asleep) just to stare at her, to reach a hand beneath the veil and stroke her cheek without pushing it up past her nose. 

Cerridwen had set that boundary the night before, and as much as Mor wanted to see her face, she would respect her wishes.

Now fear returned to the heart of the half-wraith. All those worries she’d had about how Mor might react to seeing her filled her mind once more. She couldn’t do it- she wasn’t brave enough. She’d loved Mor for too long- and feared her reaction too much- to let herself believe anything but more heartache could come from what they’d begun together.

Cerridwen found her dress near the door where it had been abandoned and slipped it on. She was going to take it as a sign- she even put her hand on the doorknob. 

Still, she hesitated.

“It’s alright,” Mor said quietly from behind her, “I understand.”

If Cerridwen truly was a stranger she would never have heard the note of sadness in her voice. She  _didn’t_  understand, not really. She thought Cerridwen saw her as just a one-night affair- passionate entertainment during the Feast of Souls, but nothing further.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Cerridwen found herself turning to face Mor. Her heart stumbled at seeing her fully- no mask to hide who she was. Cerridwen closed the distance between them in two steps, pulled her veil up just past her lips, and kissed Mor as she had the night before. 

It was fire and lightning- a making and unmaking that set Cerridwen’s blood boiling in her veins and coaxed a moan from Mor.

She could feel it though- that rapidly approaching moment when her irrational mind would talk her rational mind out of leaving. When she would cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed and let Mor rip that veil off her face so she could know her as wholly as Cerridwen now saw her.

A second before she lost control and took that plunge, Cerridwen broke the kiss, whispered, “ _I love you, Morrigan_ ,” and ran out of the apartment as fast as she could. On the landing she became shadow and mist not a second too soon- Mor caught the door and charged out after her.

She couldn’t see Cerridwen- not when she was fully in her wraith form. A hand went to her lips as though she could preserve some of the mystery female’s taste. There was no sound of feet on the stairs, no scent beyond the doorway, and eventually the distinct odor of burning eggs forced Mor back into her apartment.

That did indeed prove to be both a blessing and curse. 

Mor spent  _months_  trying to hunt down the golden female, but neither Rita nor her mate had any idea of who she might be. Kind and welcoming as the Inner Circle was, they didn’t acknowledge the twins enough for Mor to really  _look_  at Cerridwen and realize the eyes that tried desperately not to caress her every move belonged to the female who’d vanished.

It hurt more than her silent pining ever had- to have a taste of paradise and yet return to her solitary life. To be so close to the female who brought her heart so much joy and be dismissed as just another servant… 

Cerridwen came to see Azriel as the luckiest fae in all of Prythian. He loved Mor silently for two hundred years, and unlike Cerridwen he’d never known what it was like to be with her- to connect with her on an emotional and physical level as  _she_  had that night.

A blessing... and a curse.

When the next Feast of Souls rolled around, Mor arrived at Rita’s early and set up watch by the door. All night she waited, waving off any female who tried to strike up a chat.

Cerridwen slipped in wearing a low-cut gown and gaudy headdress she knew Mor would dismiss immediately. It was too loud for the quiet female she’d fallen in love with, and the only disguise she wasn’t anticipating. 

Cerridwen watched Mor at the bar from the other end of the dance hall, and let her heart bleed openly. Maybe that was the trick to getting over her- to embrace the pain and agony until it was impossible to shed another tear as she cradled her pillow at night.

For three hundred years, Mor waited faithfully at the bar during the Feast of Souls.

For three hundred years, Cerridwen hid and prayed for the ache to fade.

When Azriel asked the wraiths to secretly shadow Rhysand at a distant Feast of Souls party in honor of Amarantha, Cerridwen was the one who agreed first. She couldn’t take another year of seeing Mor take up her vigil, she couldn’t stomach the disappointment and resignation on her face when she finally gave up for the night and took someone else home to try and forget about that shy female who’d stolen her heart.

That party- and what followed- taught Cerridwen a very new kind of agony.

She and Nuala stood through every horrible second of it with Rhysand. 

They comforted him as best they could when he was shoved into his new chambers after the first night with Amarantha, and every night that followed. They alone remembered Velaris- remembered his Inner Circle- when even the rest of the Court of Nightmares had forgotten about the ferocious Cassian, sadistic Azriel, monstrous Amren, and the sheer fire and fury that was the Morrigan. 

For that- for the memory of what he was doing it all for- Rhysand was never upset with the twins for sneaking in with his group.

Every time he was returned to his room, they dropped their shields for him- and let Rhysand’s mind find theirs. He never questioned why Nuala remembered Azriel in such pristine detail, or how Cerridwen could paint a clear and vivid picture of Mor’s face- of her smile and the sound of her laughter. 

He was a drowning male, and what the wraiths offered was life itself.

After Under the Mountain, when Cerridwen stepped out of the darkness behind Rhysand and emerged in the foyer of the townhouse to see Morrigan for the first time in fifty years-

-the fear was gone.

Utterly, wholly,  _completely_  gone.

She had seen the absolute worst that life had to offer- she’d seen someone she cared about used and tortured- seen him forced to watch a female- a  _woman_ \- he loved die in every way possible, and just when she was blessed with an immortal life, he had to surrender her… All while wearing a wretched mask.

The female returned to his side, the world went mad, they were mated, Hybern rose and fell-

-and the Feast of Souls rolled back around just as the dust was settling. Their first since Under the Mountain.

 _Everyone_  went to Rita’s that night- save Rhysand and Feyre who opted to remain behind for their own fun. Cerridwen knew that meant Mor wouldn’t be there for her vigil, and had probably given up at long last, but she donned the golden veil and dark dress and went to sit at the bar in her seat. 

When Rita’s mate turned around and saw her, she dropped the glass she’d been holding.

With Cerridwen’s blessing, she ran down stairs to alert her mate.

Cassian and Azriel gorged themselves on alcohol and candy until one was cut off (Cassian) and the other turned green from the sheer  _multitude_  of sweets he’d devoured (Azriel). Nesta, Elain, Lucien, Amren, and Varian were taking turns keeping an eye on the two even as they all danced through the night.

Mor made sure they saw her with to two different males before she split from the group. She’d been so determined to move on at last- to enjoy the first Feast of Souls with her newly expanded family since the hell that was Rhysand being trapped Under the Mountain- but she couldn’t help but feel she was missing something.

Three hundred years- and every time she’d thought of giving up looking for the golden female, her heart screamed that  _that_  would be the night she reappeared.

Rita caught Mor’s eye as she wrestled with the decision to stay or go, looked to the door that led upstairs, and nodded.

Mor didn’t care who saw her. She ran the entire way, took the stairs two at a time, and shoved aside anyone in her way with nothing more than, “Sorry!”

When she entered the second party and her eyes found Cerridwen’s, Mor didn’t care who saw her unmasked face. She went straight to her, lifted the veil just high enough to free her mouth, and pulled Cerridwen into a kiss as passionate and fiery as the last one they’d shared.

They didn’t even bother waiting for Mor to make her excuses and leave the group downstairs properly. She winnowed Cerridwen across Velaris to her apartment.

“Where have-“

Cerridwen put a finger on Mor’s lips to stop her as they both gasped for breath. She was trembling with need, but she forced herself to step away from that female who claimed her heart the day they met, “I was scared for so long,” Cerridwen said. “I thought you would hate me when you knew. Every year I watched you waiting for me, and every year it killed me to stay away... After Under the Mountain, I refuse to be afraid.”

“Under the Mountain?” Mor paused- then it hit her. Color drained from her face, “Which one?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Only two females from Velaris had gone Under the Mountain with Rhysand.

She removed her veil without so much as a second thought, “Cerridwen.”

Mor stared at her for a long time- at Azriel’s spy who she’d apparently loved with quiet ferocity for three hundred years. The female who’d wrecked all others for her, who’d vanished after a kiss that Mor still felt on her lips  _centuries_  later.

A female she’d long since realized was her mate.

“You didn’t give me a chance last time,” she whispered. “You didn’t wait for me to reply, so let me say it properly now,” Mor stepped in close, erasing the gap between them. She cupped Cerridwen’s face in her hands and stroked her cheeks- just as she’d done after their night together- and recalled Cerridwen’s last words before she vanished. 

“ _I love you too._ ”

\--------------

* * *

Elain squealed and only Lucien’s quick hand on her back kept her from falling out of her seat. Feyre was clinging to Rhys, Amren held Varian’s hand (the most emotion she would let herself show), and Nest and Cassian  _both_  had their hands over their hearts.

Even Azriel and Nuala were smiling when the females finished their story.

“I wanted to come out to you all right then, but we chose to wait a bit, until we were really sure.” Mor held her lover’s hand and smiled brightly.

“And then I said we should ease you all into it, so I asked her not to tell you I was the one she was with.” Cerridwen added.

Feyre latched on to the most important part in the story, “Wait- until you were sure? Does that mean-?” Her eyes lit up in pure excitement.

“Does it mean what?” Mor couldn’t fight down her smile, but she was still playful.

“Mates?” Feyre’s voice was more of a squeak than anything.

Mor bit her lip and tried to look at Cerridwen with innocent confusion- but she utterly failed. When she buried her face in her hands and made a sound similar to Elain’s outburst, Cerridwen took over.

“Yes,” most of the females at the table shrieked, while the males tried to look indignant at the behavior of their mates. Rhys, however, was  _beaming_  at the two of them. “Not mated  _yet_ , but the bond snapped into place last night. We wanted to tell you all first and so we came right here.” She looked to Nuala with a flicker of concern in her eyes, “Please don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” Nuala stood from her seat and came to her twin, “Why would I  _ever_  be mad?” She pulled her up and into a warm hug, then grabbed Mor as well. Tears were streaming down her face as she held her sister and her sister’s mate, “All I knew was that you were so unhappy for so long- and then one day it was like someone brought you to life.” She broke the hug and kissed Mor’s cheek.

“It was the same with Azriel,” Mor gave Nuala another hug. “I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been since you two fell in love.”

When Nuala and Cerridwen first caught sight of one another, the Inner Circle had gone quiet. They thought a storm was brewing between the twins, and everyone braced for a fight. 

Instead, Cerridwen had simply asked Nuala how it started. 

When Nuala finished her story, Cerridwen told theirs.

The assembled females hated the tragedy of it all- how Cerridwen  _and_  Mor had suffered in fear and love for centuries- but they’d all been drawn in by suspense, and awaited Cerradwen’s revelation to Mor eagerly… Even though Mor and Cerridwen sitting hand-in-hand before them was a rather obvious sign of a happy ending to the story. 

Rhysand was just glad to see Mor with someone she loved- a female who had saved him Under the Mountain with her memories and kindness. 

Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, and Varian all shared a similar smile.

“We’re going to spend the two weeks everyone is here relaxing and letting you all see us as a couple in love.” Mor took a deep breath. Cassian and Rhysand knew from varying degrees of personal experience how much it hurt to try and ignore the pull of the mating bond when you’d already had a taste. It was a special kind of need that burned you from the inside out. “After you all go back to Velaris… We’ll stay here for another week or so- if that’s alright.”

At the lake Cassian found. In the home he’d built for his family. They wanted to mate in the paradise he had created, after spending two weeks with those Mor and Cerridwen loved most in life.

“I’d be honored,” Cassian said immediately.

Rhysand rolled his eyes, “What he means to say is ‘that’s perfectly fine by us’. He just has trouble with words sometimes.”

Mor snorted and squeezed Cerridwen’s hand again, “You sure you want to be a part of this family? There are weird ones.”

Cerridwen pressed her forehead to Mor’s and smiled brightly, “ _Absolutely_.”

* * *

**Announcement:**

As anyone who follows my tumblr (Rhysand-vs-Rowan), the next chapter will be Elucien smut. I know there is a sharp divide in the fandom between Elucien and Elriel, so I am writing Chapter 4 in a way that has no bearing on the overall storyline for “The Cabin by the Lake”. 

There will be no big revelations, no cliffhanger, and any interaction with the Inner Circle will be ones that do not have a payoff in Chapters 5 & 6 (Amrian and Nessian respectively). 

Also, just a reminder (and if you want clarification you can send me an ask)- ship-hate is not allowed on my page at all, but any pro-Elriel or anti-Elucien comments/replies  **on my fanfics specifically**  will earn you a ‘block’ (other posts are fine). I do not ship-bash and respect that some do not ship Elucien, I just ask that when it comes to my fics you respect that I do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Elucien smut. HOWEVER- I wrote it in such a way that you can skip this chapter without missing anything in the overall CBTL storyline out of respect for Elriel shippers.

##  **Chapter 4: Elucien**

****This chapter contains NSFW content****

The excitement of the morning never quite faded, but it did settle enough for everyone to relax a bit.

Mor and Cerridwen went to the lake to help Azriel slowly introduce Nuala to the water. Cerridwen, unknown to both Mor and Nuala, had taken lessons from a distant water-wraith cousin after Under the Mountain and was practically half-seal when she got into the water. That set off a twinge of competition that had Nuala more eager than ever to learn. Azriel barely caught her before she threw herself off the porch and directly into the lake.

Cassian and Feyre went to the sparring ring while Rhysand attempted the obstacle course, and Nesta wandered into her cabin to change into strapless swim clothes so that she could lay in the sun and tan. Amren and Varian were hiking towards the mountain to explore a cavern system he’d found behind the waterfall- though everyone pretty much agreed that was code for ‘sex’.

Elain and Lucien, naturally, chose to build a garden.

“When you’re finished with that one, it goes over there-“ Elain pointed to a marked-off corner of the empty herb garden Cassian built her. Lucien saluted his mate before returning to the board he was sawing.

Honestly, it was amazing Elain even waited the half-day they’d been at the lake so far to begin gardening. She’d spent most of the night with Lucien turning their sitting room into a planning center. Each and every herb Cassian had procured was labeled, along with detailed notes on the type of climate to that plant required to thrive. Lucien and Elain had enjoyed only a brief tumble in the sheets to christen their new bed before they fell into an exhausted sleep, and he found himself dreaming of Cauldron-damned seeds.

Now, in the hot sun, Lucien was building wooden frames that would sit below ground level- each inscribed and inlaid with detailed spells Cassian had written out for him. They would harness the same magic that kept his Illyrian garden self-managing while he was away from the cabins, while also monitoring soil nutrient levels. 

Lucien was on his twenty-seventh board, sweat dripped down his tanned back, and all his body knew was the vibrations of saw through wood. His shoulders ached, his mouth was dry, but this was  _exactly_  the life Lucien loved- gardening with his mate.

Feyre had always found peace in her painting, and it showed. When she was with Rhysand she was  _alive_ , but no matter how stressed or frustrated she was, her paintbrushes and canvas were a very different kind of lover. It was as if painting brought her very  _soul_  to the foreground, and in each work she completed a piece her was embedded forever.

It was the same with Elain and gardens. 

For every one she planted, Lucien saw a special kind of magic shining in her heart. It was a magic of creation- of  _life_ \- and in this place more than any other that power thrived. He didn’t mind the work, though it was just as exhausting as when he forged his own weapons. He didn’t care about the dirt or sweat or even the inevitable blisters on his hands- all he cared about was having his front-row seat to the sheer creation Elain blessed her gardens with.

With only that in mind, Lucien kept sawing boards until he couldn’t even feel his back anymore. He let the sun bake his skin- thanked the Cauldron for his natural resistance to sunburn- and stopped only when Elain  _insisted_  he take a drink of water- all so that he could help her create.

“Look at all this,” Elain whistled as yet another board joined the heap. “How shall I repay my handsome mate for all of his hard work?”

Lucien accepted her kiss on his cheek, but he only offered a smile in response. He was breathing too hard to speak properly, and any movement outside of the automatic raising and lowering of the sawblade might shatter the illusion of numbness and remind him just how tired he was.

Elain gathered a bundle of four boards and brought them over to where she was sitting in the dirt to carefully copy Cassian’s spells. It was slower work than what Lucien was doing, but far more difficult. The concentration it took to get the spell  _just right_  was something that took Cassian months to master. Elain was attempting it in a day.

Normally, she would just place a small white stone into the planting beds- growing stones from Day Court that Lucien bought in bulk for each garden. They could replicate the optimal growing climate of every plant, ensuring a perfect harvest for the vegetables and herbs Cassian had prepared. In the spirit of the cabin- where hard work, not magic, had crafted all- Elain and Lucien had decided to take the long way around.

“Sixty-eight,” he gasped half an hour after Elain’s last visit. Lucien risked walking over to where her pile of spelled boards was growing steadily larger. She was only on the thirty-fifth board, but sweat dripped down her forehead.

“You should take a break to catch your breath,” she said once she’d finished sinking her magic into the board, “this is thirty-five, so count backwards.”

Lucien lifted the top three boards off the pile and set them a little closer to Elain. He scooped up sixteen boards in each arm, careful to keep them in order, “I’m fine.  _You_  look like you could use a break though.”

“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Elain admitted, “but it’s not too bad. I think I can finish.”

“Want me to help?”

Elain rolled her eyes, “I would  _love_  for you to help, because that would mean you were sitting down.”

“I would love to help you, because that would mean you were taking a break.”

She smiled at last, “Go hit things with a hammer- and do it from a chair if you can.”

Her mate laughed, “If I sit down, within five minutes it will be impossible for me to stand up again.” Both of them were suffering in different ways- as it always was with the first stages of a new garden. Elain wouldn’t stop to nurse her headache (even if he begged her to), and he wouldn’t stop because of a few sore muscles (even if  _she_  begged him to).

Lucien made a point of going over to his worktable and looking high and low for the chair that didn’t exist. When Elain threw a clod of dirt at him, he laughed and actually set to work.

His golden eye helped him arrange the framing boards based on their type. Parallel boards had to match- two planks embedded with climate control spells, and two with general gardening magic. When all was said and done there would be seventeen large frames sunk beneath the soil of the herb-garden.

His hands were firm as he gripped the hammer, and so long as Lucien swung with his upper-arm, he could keep the rhythm going even through the change of tools. If his muscles didn’t realize he’d switched gears, he was safe.

The boards he’d already taken formed the first eight frames, and by the time he was done assembling them Elain had three more ready to go. While she worked on spells for the last five, Lucien began measuring and scraping preliminary trenches where he would have to dig and submerge each frame.

“We’re only doing a half-day,” Elain called as Lucien stood and reached for a nearby shovel. “After the frames are assembled we can just set them in place, then worry about digging tomorrow. If we dig up the ground today, I’ll just want to plant.”

Sentences were now beyond him, but Lucien saluted her again. He picked up his hammer and began to pace, swinging the weight around to keep his muscles from cooling down.

It took another hour for Elain to finish up all the boards. 

Lucien tried not to look too impatient when he monitored her from the corner of his eye. Each time she set the fourth board down, he’d swoop in and pick up the stack before she even had the next plank properly in her lap. His strength was fading  _fast_.

When Lucien finished with the last set he’d taken from his mate, he began to pace again.

“Stand down soldier, we’re done.” Elain used her best commander voice and saluted him for good measure.

He didn’t even bother setting the hammer down- Lucien simply dropped it where he stood. He straightened out his back and stretched with an undignified groan. It was the most glorious and horrific feeling he could imagine. Muscles that were burning cramped in protest of new movement, whereas his neck and spine practically sent him ‘thank-you’ notes.

“Head?” He was panting as he pointed at Elain.

“It’ll be fine in an hour.” She smiled, “Did you overdo it a bit?”

Lucien nodded. Elain held out her hand and he came to take it- or at least he intended to. His own hand wouldn’t quite close, and when he forced it his fingers trembled.

Lucien let his mate pull him out of the garden and around the house to the tiled porch. She gave him a light shove at its edge and he unceremoniously collapsed.

“Wow.” Cassian was evidently done training Feyre. He swam to the edge of the deck and turned back to face the lake, “Elain killed Lucie!” Only when Lucien was contained or immobilized did Cassian dare call him ‘Lucie’.

“He’s not dead,” she called to anyone listening, “he just wore himself out in the garden.”

Cassian made a face, “When you two say stuff like that, I never know if it’s a euphemism or not.”

Lucien drew on his last reserves of energy- maybe even his life force itself- just to flip Cassian off.

If he died thanks to the exertion, it would be worth it.

“Lucie, who taught you that?!” Cassian swiped his hand through the water and began to flick droplets at Lucien, “Bad Lucie!  _Bad_! That’s for grown ups only!”

Ropes of fire wrapped around Cassian’s hands, ankles, and wings, pinning them tight without burning his flesh. The male sunk beneath the surface immediately.

“Let him go in ten seconds,” Elain sat down and rested a hand on Lucien’s chest. He mumbled something as she tapped a finger against the curve of his pectorals. “What was that Lucien?”

He coughed, “I said- you only love me for my body.”

“Hot, sweaty mess that it is,” she agreed, and kissed his forehead.

Cassian erupted from the water with a spray that got the attention of Mor, Cerridwen, Nuala, and Azriel far away.

“Whatever you did Cassian, stop being an idiot!” Mor yelled across the lake.

“Why do you always assume  _I_  was the one being an idiot?!”

“ _Were_  you?”

Cassian paused, “Yes, but that isn’t the point!” He shot off across the water towards her to continue their argument- but flapped his wings hard enough to send a spray over Lucien and Elain.

Her mate smiled happily at the cool blessing that the water bestowed and rested his hand on hers, “I’ll get up in a minute. I just want to let everything settle back into place. Is your head alright? It’s not turning into a migraine, is it?”

“One of us is vertical, one of us is not. Guess which is which?” Elain poked him.

“You gave away the answer,” his voice was more of a mumble than actual words.

“I’m fine. It’s just a tension headache, it’s going away.” She stood- dragging his hand along with her, “Get up. We’ll go sit in the dining area to catch our breath. After lunch I’ll put you down for a nap.”

“Sleep… good.”

“Yes, caveman. Sleep  _good_.”

Lucien forced himself to rise off the patio tiles. At least a dozen different spots in his spine and shoulders popped. He smiled, Elain winced.

For their Illyrian lunch, Cassian prepared tandoori chicken. It was hot, filling, and just a bit spicy. Lucien ate almost as much as the Illyrians, and drank more water than was healthy in one sitting.

“I feel alive again,” Lucien patted his stomach. “Thank you for lunch Cassian.”

“Do you apologize for nearly drowning me?”

“I said I appreciate the lunch you made, take it or leave it.” Lucien shot him a look.

Nesta hid her snicker from her mate. Cassian made a face, “Take it… I  _guess_.”

“What happened? He wouldn’t tell us,” Cerridwen was interested.

“Cassian earned the middle finger, then told Lucien that was ‘for grown-ups only’.” Elain rolled her eyes.

Azriel laughed, “So it  _was_  deserved?”

“Yes, but as I said to Mor- that  _isn’t the point_.”

Rhys reached over and put a hand on Nesta’s shoulder, “I hate to inform you, but you’re married to an infant.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You think I haven’t figured that out yet?”

The group joked around for a bit longer, until all the food and drinks were finished and the housekeeping magic of the complex whisked the dishes back to Nesta and Cassian’s cabinets, where they would arrive freshly cleaned.  Covered plates waited for Amren and Varian in their home- though Varian had told Cassian not to expect them for dinner either.

“I’ve got a headache,” Elain nudged Lucien, “walk me back to the cabin?”

He watched her a moment before nodding, “Sure. Ready to go?”

Lucien stood and offered Elain an arm. She stood- and just the slight tug of her movement threatened to topple Lucien. He suddenly remembered that he was exhausted.

“Is your head still bothering you?” Lucien asked when they were a good distance from the others. 

“I feel absolutely fine now,” she nudged him. “I just wanted to get you back and didn’t feel like waiting for the ‘little Lucie’ jokes to die down.”

He laughed, “I appreciate that, thank you.” 

They’d barely slept. Combined with their morning work on the garden, he knew that as soon as his stomach realized it was full and warm he would be unconscious.

Elain nudged him, “There is something I want to do before you conk out.”

“What’s that?” Lucien rolled his shoulders a couple of times. If he needed to exert himself again, he would.

“Bathe,” she waved a hand in front of her nose, “you don’t smell nice.”

“You smell like sweat,” he teased, “but I love it because it’s  _you_.”

“I wanted to share a bath, but if you don’t think I need one-“

Lucien’s spine straightened, “I smell like shit,  _you_  certainly smell like shit. Elain Archeron, we need to bathe  _right now_.”

She sighed, “No matter how tired males are, you always perk up for sex.”

“Sex? Elain, I’m talking about  _basic hygiene_ , which you’re lacking.” He did his best to sound completely serious.

Elain considered it a moment with a twinkle in her eye, “Well if that’s how you feel, we should bathe separately and then see how well we did.  _If_  you have the energy, that is.”

Lucien opened the door to their cabin, “Well Elain, as you just pointed out, I’m perky.”

“Then get going,” Elain swatted Lucien’s rear as she walked by, “I’ll take one of the upstairs bathrooms and meet you in the bedroom.”

“What’s the penalty if either of us does an unsatisfactory job?”

“I’ll just have to teach you to bathe properly, won’t I?”

He grinned at the thought of her hands sliding over his body- or his over hers, “Sounds like a deal.”

In this game, there could be no loser.

That didn’t mean either intended to play fair.

* * *

—–

Lucien took his sweet time in the shower, even though his energy was beginning to fade away. When he was done, he downed a minor healing potion to stave off the ache in his muscles before going upstairs. 

If he showed weakness, Elain would pounce.

“I think I’m winning already,” he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. Elain had obviously finished in the bath long before him.

Her bronze hair cascaded down her body in soft curls, unfortunately covering her bare breasts. Lucien thanked the Cauldron it didn’t fall past her lower back as his eyes drank in the sight of her. Obscured as they were, her breasts were backlit by the one-way window, sending a buttery light to outline every delicious curve of her body.

She was standing on the tips of her toes- balanced on a chair- to attach a clasp to a hidden hook in their bedroom ceiling. From the clasp dangled two long strips that ended in padded cuffs. Elain managed to fix the clasp in place, then quickly adjusted the length of the straps to a thin red line that had been stitched into them- the marker for Lucien’s height with a standard ceiling. Her own mark was much further down the straps in pink.

“If you got sweaty setting that up, I’m counting it against your score.”

Elain shrugged, “I figured this was the only way to keep us both honest. You can’t hide anything from me if you’re all tied up.” Her voice was too innocent.

“Oh, so I’m going first?” He chuckled and came to stand directly in front of her. On the chair, Elain’s stomach was at the level of his eyes and Lucien simply  _breathed_  onto it. He held his arms above his head and brushed his lips across her skin, “Well then, shall we begin.” 

His whisper sent her blood boiling.

“No cheating.” Elain swung her knee forward, forcing Lucien to step back or be kicked in the throat. He laughed and held still while his arms were bound.

Elain stepped down from the chair and shoved it aside, then looked over Lucien’s body.

Nothing turned him on faster than the lustful gaze of his mate.

Her eyes were  _ravenous_  as she took in his toned muscles, still strained from a morning of hard labor. His skin was tanned to a burnt gold- brighter than Helion’s because of his mother’s blood, but still imbued with all the fire and radiance of the sun itself. Elain licked her lips slowly as her eyes traveled down his torso to his abdomen, where he was ridged by thick muscle. When her eyes drifted to the length between his legs-

-Elain swallowed.

“You were right,” Lucien followed her gaze, “I’m  _perky_.”

“I married such a dork.” She walked around him so that Lucien wouldn’t see her grinning.

As revenge for his frankly  _horrible_  pun, she abruptly reached down and grabbed one of Lucien’s feet. He yelped as he was suddenly thrown off balance. She brought the foot up to inspect and he slipped off his other foot. It was nowhere near comfortable with his muscles as sore as they were, and Lucien hissed in pain.

The second he did, Elain released the foot, “There’s a bit of dirt there.” She stood on her toes and kissed his shoulders in apology.

“Dirt from the  _floors_.”

“Doesn’t matter where it comes from. One strike.” Elain glanced at his leg and waited until she saw his weight shift to grab it. This time he didn’t fall over, “This one too. That’s two strikes so far, you really aren’t doing well.”

“You’re getting the same two strikes, so I’m not worried.” He rolled his eyes.

Elain knelt behind Lucien and ran her thumbs up the back of his legs from ankle to rear, “Just because it  _looks_  clean doesn’t mean it is.”

Before Lucien could ask what she meant, he felt her tongue travelling along the same exact path her fingers had taken. She was tasting him. She repeated her path up his other leg. Apparently satisfied with what she found, she squeezed his rear and stood. Her tongue resumed its journey between the two dimples above his rear and Lucien moaned at the feeling of her mouth along his spine.

“A little salty there,” she stood to whisper in his ear. Her breasts pressed against his back, and he felt a soft tickle along the curve of his rear from where her mound pressed against him.

“You’re making me sweat,” Lucien grumbled.

“Not my fault.” Elain rested her cheek against the muscles of his shoulders for a moment, enjoying the way they shifted as he gently tugged at the cuffs.

“Third strike against your hygiene.” Elain stretched and licked along the side of his neck, “Well, that’s clean at least.”

She came around to face him and began to stroke his abs. Lucien’s cock was standing straight out, and when Elain pressed up against him to lick his neck, she made sure that cock slid into the gap between her thighs and mound.

Lucien loosed a hard breath and began to pull at the cuffs again. Elain’s heat completely surrounded him, and suddenly there was no game. He forgot anything existed beyond the feeling of his mate’s mouth, and the silky, firm embrace of her thighs.

Elain took her own sweet time “checking” his neck, chest, and arms. She added three more strikes against him for sweat beading beneath his pectorals, bringing his total up to six. Only when she had nowhere else to go did she slide to her knees. Her tongue traced his abs and stomach, then probed his belly button  _just_  to annoy him. She sucked at the inside of his thighs (another two strikes), before finally turning her attention wholly on his cock.

“Anything wet is from you,” he panted.

Elain saw some moisture along the shaft and licked at it. She considered it, “No- I think that’s your taste. Point off.”

“We’re  _mates_ , we have the same taste!  How would I have gotten anything there?”

“So what you’re saying is who  _knows_  how long this has been dirty?” Elain traced two nails along his length, “That’s got to be at least another point off.  _Ten already_ , who taught you to bathe?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before she sucked one of his balls into her mouth. She tugged at it slightly, then released it to take the other. Lucien cried out in pleasure, but Elain only sighed, “Twelve points.”

“What’s wrong with those?!”

“Light stubble. You know I like them smooth.”

“If that’s how you’re going to play, I’m showing no mercy.”

Elain smirked and reached up to pull a little black string that dangled from the cuffs. They slid open just enough for Lucien to free his hands, “Go ahead, make me suffer.”

She waited for him to loosen the straps and lower the cuffs to  _her_ height, then fixed her mate with a wild grin and kicked one foot out behind her.

Lucien obediently circled her to inspected it with both hand and tongue, “How the hell did you manage that? There should be fuzz from the carpet at least.”

“Shields around my feet.” Elain looked over her shoulder as he inspected the other foot, “I guess I’m just better at basic hygiene than you.”

“Oh  _really_.” Just as she had done to him, he bit and licked his way up the backs of her legs. 

Elain squeezed her thighs together subconsciously as she felt a throbbing in her core. Tasting Lucien’s body had turned her on too much. While she envisioned with this ending in Lucien taking her right where she stood, her competitive streak was still very much awake. He was looking for any excuse to give her points, and the building moisture between her legs was worth  _at least_  three already.

Lucien wrapped his arms around Elain’s legs and lifted them just enough to bend her forwards. He went slowly enough that the added weight on her arms wasn’t uncomfortable, but she still squeaked in indignation. Lucien took advantage of the position to stick his tongue between her legs far enough to taste the moisture there.

“One point for not cleaning your rear properly.” Lucien set her down.

“That wasn’t my ass, you tipped me too far forward!”

“Semantics. Another point for arguing. Ten more and we tie, eleven and I win.” He began to lick up her spine, “Three points.” Between her shoulders sweat was beading, “ _Four_.” His tongue curved behind her ear- far too probing to be sexual. Elain squealed when it went  _into_  her ear.

“STOP IT!” she swung her leg back to kick him when he moved her hair to access the other ear.

“Well, two points for the first ear, should I just add two for the second?”

“YES, YOU BASTARD.” Elain wiped her ear on her shoulder as best she could. The entire right side of her body was covered in goosebumps.

“Alright then, two points for that ear, one for bad language, and one for whatever you wanted to hide by not letting me have a taste.” He walked around her with an innocent smile, “That brings your total up to ten.” Lucien clicked his tongue, “It’s not looking good Elain.”

She was going to lose.

Elain growled when he came around and licked the underside of each breast where just the faintest tang of sweat remained from her exertions hooking the binds to the ceiling. “Well that’s a tie now…” 

Lucien smiled at the look on his mate’s face. She was already resigned to losing- and grumpy over it. If she’d known how he was planning on ‘taxing’ the refusal of her left ear inspection, she would have embraced the goosebumps.

Lucien slid to his knees just as she had, and kissed along her stomach until he was between her legs. He brushed his finger up and down through the hair of her mound, then nodded, “My apologies Elain, I wasn’t in compliance with our deal, but you certainly are.” 

Each gave the other at  _some_  say in how they groomed. She’d asked for him to be smooth, if it wasn’t much trouble. Lucien readily agreed and then said he preferred her ‘however my beautiful mate chooses’. No matter that Elain gave him a point for ‘stubble’, he was never going to give her one for  _that_.

“Alright,” Lucien breathed in the scent of his mate’s sex, “if this isn’t perfectly clean then I win.” His eyes promised revenge for her stunt with his cock.

Elain huffed as Lucien lifted her leg over his shoulder. He blew a breath of air onto her and she could feel exactly where the moisture soaked her. Lucien licked up one thigh, then the other, tasting every last drop. 

That golden eye- and its mischievous green counterpart- watched her face while he inched up towards her center.

Despite her annoyance, Elain’s breathing was heavy as the bridge of Lucien’s nose pressed against her knot. She gasped when his tongue slid through her folds.

 _“Lucien!_ ” she cried out as he entered her and shook his head ever so slightly, flicking her sensitive knot. His eyes narrowed and he probed further. Elain didn’t know how to press  _harder_  against his face. Just as he had, she forgot the game they were playing as unbelievable pleasure woke between her legs.

He slid away from her, panting. Another second and he wouldn’t have stopped until she came at least twice.

Lucien swallowed hard and wiped at the moisture on his face, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Elain was squeezing her thighs together, trying to finish what he’d abandoned, “If you don’t like it, get back in there and-“

“Not that,” Lucien nodded to her legs. He looked at his wet fingers and sucked them into his mouth. He groaned and his cock twitched, “I meant what are you doing bribing the judge like that?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her mound as he licked his lips, “It’s cheating, but I want more…”

“Then take it,” Elain knew she lost the game- and her sarcastic mate would probably remind her of that when they bathed later- but she didn’t care at the moment. She  _needed_  release.

“I can’t,” his eyes were sad, “I lost.”

“Wait- what? You  _won_.”

He shook his head, “The judge  _really_  likes the treat you gave him. Two points off your score.” 

As if he would let his mate lose this game.

“Oh no you don’t, I won’t take a bribery-win. Give me my points back.”

“Fine, we’re tied. I choose to concede to my opponent, and oh look- you win again. As your reward, you may do with me what you wish.” He reached for the release cord and Elain growled, “What?”

She looked up and wiggled her hands above the cuffs, “I really want to play with this some more.”

“You’ll get to tie  _me_  up again.” He knew where she was going, but he would make his wife say it. His shoulder still kind of hurt from when she grabbed his foot, annoying her would be his revenge.

“I’m too short, it isn’t fun if you’re the one tied up while we’re standing.” She huffed, “I can’t get the right leverage and it’s  _exhausting_  without you helping to hold me. It doesn’t go deep enough if I’m trying to hold on to you at the same time.”

“Wall sex?”

“Last time we did that I got a kink in my neck that didn’t go away for a  _week_. I don’t want wall sex, I want standing sex,” Elain pouted.

Lucien smiled, “I saw an icebox downstairs, if you’d like to play with that for a bit.”

“No ice. No more foreplay,” she glared. Usually it was among her favorite ways to play, but not this time.

He sighed and shook his head, “The things I do for my mate.” Lucien came closer and lifted Elain’s leg so that her ankle rested on his shoulder, her other leg wrapped around his hips, and her entrance was angled towards his cock. Elain smiled in anticipation.

“Work, work, work,” Lucien held his cock and pushed forward.

Elain rolled her hips ever so slightly, and as soon as the tip of his cock parted her folds, it slid to rest against her. Lucien pulled her onto him gently. He savored the sharp gasp when his cockhead entered her, then the long, shuddering moan as an inch of his length followed.

Lucien rolled his hips gently, easing his member in and out, going just a couple inches deeper each time. Within moments, he was seated to the hilt. He hugged Elain’s leg with one arm, pinning it against his shoulder. His free hand pulled the other off his hips to match. A soft cushion of air pressed against Elain’s back just enough to take most of her weight off of her bound wrists.

“Ready for some fun?” Lucien whispered. He slid out until just the tip was inside her.

“Oh  _Cauldron_  yes,” she cried out when his arms tightened around her legs and Lucien thrust into her hard and fast. He solidified the air behind her and released her legs so that he could hold her hips instead.

“You feel so good,” Lucien groaned as he pulled out and thrust back in. “You’re so warm.”

“ _Harder_ ,” she hissed, “ _go harder_.”

Lucien obliged immediately. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room as he pounded into Elain. She wanted to touch him- to grab him and make him go  _harder_ ,  _faster_ \- but she was completely unable to hold him.

That was her favorite part of bondage.

Theirs wasn’t a relationship of domination or submission, it was built on teasing and trust. She knew he would tend to her, and would never leave her empty or wanting. Still- he could  _delay_  when she was granted her release, and when she had him tied to the bed her power was just as absolute.

Lucien felt Elain tightening as her pleasure built. He quickly pushed one leg off his shoulder and sent a shield of air to pin it to the ground.

The effect was immediate.

Elain had been moaning and shouting from the feeling of his cock filling her, but with the adjustment her entrance was tighter and he entered her at an angle that made him grind against both her knot and those other nerves buried deep inside her. 

Either one alone would be overwhelming.

When they were combined, she had no chance of staving off her orgasm for even a second.

Lucien bit his lip as her walls clamped down around him and Elain came with a scream. He thrust even faster, and slipped two fingers in on either side of his cock, and pulled her open just a little bit wider.

All Elain knew was that halfway through her orgasm the wave that was breaking around her was struck by  _another_  wave- this one a wall of pure light and blinding ecstasy. 

She screamed Lucien’s name and  _begged_  him to come deep inside her.

The answering rush of heat told her he obeyed. 

Lucien came with Elain’s name on his lips and her body tight around his cock. He was forced to stop thrusting into her as she gripped him with impressive force, but it didn’t diminish her pleasure. Elain arched her back and threw her head to the side. She bit her own arm as she cried out again- this time at the feeling of him throbbing and pulsing inside her, each hard twitch followed by a burst of warmth in her depths.

Lucien pulled the black cord, his shields vanished, and once Elain’s wrists were free he fell to the floor, taking her with him. 

Elain collapsed onto his chest. She could feel his heart pounding and his cock throbbing right along inside of her. It was growing soft as he came in smaller and smaller bursts.

“Anything you want,” he panted as Elain slid his cock from her, “I will do  _anything_  you want if you give me half an hour to recover.” His aching muscles were on fire- and Lucien couldn’t tell which was from the gardening and which from  _that_. The feeling of her around him was incredible-  _more_  than incredible- but what his mate (and cock) wanted, his body just couldn’t deliver without some form of rest.

Exhaustion was beginning to claim Elain as well, so she smacked Lucien’s chest and stood, “Get up.”

He groaned, but obeyed his mate with minimal whimpering on the way to his feet, “That was a fast half hour.”

“Come on, you tired old male.” Elain pulled Lucien towards the bathroom. He looked more asleep than awake as his energy drained away. She tugged at him again, “This will only take a minute.”

He followed reluctantly, “I don’t work that fast. I like to take my time and really build it up. However, if you just want oral I can make it happen if I’m allowed to lay down.” 

“Even though I’ve  _always_ wondered what it’d feel like if you started snoring while your tongue was in me, I was thinking it might be nice to just clean up and have an afternoon nap. What do you say?” She laughed.

Lucien took a deep, steadying breath and nodded, “You have permission to use my body as you see fit while I sleep. Don’t take it personally if I snore.”

“I’ll wake you up that way,” Elain promised and kissed his cheek, “you’ll be all tied down and everything.”

Lucien smiled. When he blinked, only one eye bothered to open again.

They cleaned off in record time, and by the end Lucien was scooping Elain up into his arms and carrying her to their bed. He uncovered additional hooks hidden in the bedframe and quickly attached the ends of hand and ankle cuffs to them.

“There, when you wake up you can strap me down and ravish me,” he said.

Lucien left the cuffs hanging and curled up beside Elain. She laid her head on one of his arms and pulled his other across her chest to hold. He burrowed into her hair and let her natural perfume surround him. Her scent- roses and apples- filled his world.  _Their_  scent. His favorite since long before they ever mated.

And it was just a  _little_  too strong.

“Elain?”

“Yes?” Her voice was a sleepy murmur.

“There’s still a little shampoo in your hair.”

“I don’t care,” she sighed. “I’ll rinse it out later.”

“That’s a point though. You’re unhygienic. I win.”

Lucien expected a snort, maybe her elbow in his ribs or a few choice curses.

He wasn’t ready when she grabbed a free pillow beside her head and whipped it around to smack him in the face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has come to my attention a lot of people didn't catch it when ACOWAR revealed that Amren was an angel (the one who killed the firstborn in the plagues of Egypt) .
> 
> That is important to know for this chapter. It isn't a headcanon, it was confirmed by Maas herself.

**Chapter 5: Amrian**

 

“Careful, you’re smiling again,” Varian whispered into Amren’s ear.

“That is completely unacceptable, how dare you let me make an idiot out of myself.” Amren turned her smile on him.

Lucien and Elain had just begun to work in their little garden across the lake. Cerridwen, Mor, Azriel, and Nuala were playing in the water, Feyre and Cassian were sparring, and Rhysand was most of the way towards getting himself tangled in a rope ladder. Amren didn’t feel much like swimming, and Varian had suggested something far too enticing to turn down.

While playing in the lake the day before, Varian had found a tunnel behind the waterfall that led to a series of small caves. Something about them excited him, and he’d returned without looking further than a couple of tunnels. He wouldn’t tell Amren what exactly he saw, but he was practically pacing all night in excitement.

“Don’t worry, I’ll never let you make a  _complete_  idiot of yourself,” Varian winked. “For you that would have to be what- giggling?”

“Cauldron forbid,” Amren snorted. “Or is it Rhysand-forbid now?”

Varian blinked, “Did you just make a  _joke_?”

She smacked him in the stomach hard enough to make her disapproval clear, “You already fucked up your promise to keep me normal. That lasted what- four seconds before I was joking?”

“At least five.”

Amren hit him again and Varian bowed down with a grin. As soon as he was in range, she kissed him, then huffed, “Look at this? Who’s going to be afraid of me if I’m…  _content_?”

“Say it’s the fault of this place- the magic here made you loopy.”

“Isn’t that the truth… I was downright  _giddy_  when we arrived. It’s not natural.”

“Not at all. We’ve talked about this Amren,  _I’m_  the only one who’s allowed to be giddy in this relationship.” Varian was impressed when he managed to pull off a stern look.

She grabbed his shirt and dragged her lover back towards the house, “I guess we should head out to those caves and you can remind me what happens when we  _both_  fail. I’m making jokes, that’s a failure on both of our ends.”

“It’s true, we’re horrible.” Varian followed with a smile, “I just don’t see how we tolerate one another.”

He couldn’t explain it- what attracted him to Amren. From the moment he met her in Summer he was just… drawn to her. The moment he saw her his heart belonged to her. His duty had been to keep an eye on her- and it was more than a pleasure. When Amren, Feyre, and Rhysand had returned to Night so abruptly (and with some book Tarquin was more afraid of than he was Amren), Varian had found a binder of enchanted papers in her rooms.

For months, he and Amren used those to communicate. They’d spoken rather formally in Summer, yet the easy teasing of a couple came naturally. He warned her of the blood rubies and even sent a precious heirloom necklace to her as a token of his love. His hurried message warning of the attack on Summer led to their reunion at the High Lords meeting- then once again in the war camps.

Ever since then, they’d rarely been apart.

Amren would have it no other way.

Life in Night was never quite dull with Rhysand at the helm, but she’d grown bored with her various lovers. Once Varian’s seafoam-green eyes met hers, she suddenly found herself more than eager to sample all  _that_  male had to offer… and yet she never grew bored again. He was a match for her in cunning and mischief. Varian was a general who was used to order and respect, a military-bred male who refused to accept the black-and-white world those kind of males preferred to see.

He was a dreamer where he did not belong, just as she had been so many eons ago.

Amren followed Varian out of their cabin and began the long hike around the lake towards the waterfall. All she could think about was the bizarre, marvelous male beside her whose soul felt almost as old as hers. He was the paradise she’d secretly dreamed of for millennia on end- not a toy or plaything, but a true partner. Her equal.

The roaring of the waterfall grew louder, and vegetation on the ground was far thicker as they approached the side of the falls. Varian threw a shield over them both to protect from the water, looked to Amren, and with just his eyes asked her to stay put. He knew there was another cave higher up, one they could access  the caverns through, but he had to find it first.

Amren waited and watched the violent crashing of water into lake while Varian made his search. From a distance it was so beautiful, so peaceful _,_ but up close it reminded Amren that she’d  _personally_  seen entire civilizations destroyed by water alone. It was ferocious and deadly, and it made her smile.

Varian came back with water dripping off his shield. He took her hand and pulled Amren towards those falls. They were utterly deafening, rendering speech all but impossible. Water poured over their shield and Amren wondered if the lake itself was drier than this place.

The footpath was little more than a ledge coated in lichen and moss. Varian moved slowly. He planted his feet, and only moved inches at a time. He had a healthy respect for the dangers of waterfalls- Summer was absolutely full of them- and he didn’t want to slip into the churning waters below.

 _You have gills and a tail, jackass,_  Amren glared at the back of his head,  _if we fall, you’ll just swim us away from the waterfall_. He looked back with his eyebrow raised- either he’d anticipated her frustration at their slow pace or she accidentally sent the thought to him.

She didn’t particularly give a shit.

Something was brushing against the back of her mind, and it put Amren on edge. It was a shadow of a memory not quite settled into place- something that whispered of death.

Bit by bit, they inched towards a pile of jagged rocks at the back of the waterfall. They were angled in every direction, and so closely packed that it was obvious they were the result of some kind of explosion. The mountain was shattered from base to top.

 _The lake used to be on top of the mountain, not down here_ , she realized. That explosion millennia ago had freed the water from far,  _far_  above them and redirected it all towards the newer location. Something strong enough to split a mountain. The death Amren felt suddenly took shape.

Varian pointed to the pile of stone as if it weren’t obvious they would be climbing. He kept Amren shielded and let her take point. His alternative entrance was  _deep_  below the water’s surface, and the pressure alone could be dangerous. The lake was certainly something unique. No freshwater lake should go as far down as it did nearer to the waterfall. When Feyre sent Cassian and Azriel to its depths at the center they were only half way to the pressure at the underwater entrance.

Amren climbed easily enough, but her smile was gone. She knew what this place was, what the magic of the lake truly was… and it made her sad.

She reached the top of the rock wall and looked down to see Varian still closer to the bottom than the top. He wasn’t able to use a lot of the same hand and footholds she had- he was just too big. The path he picked out of the jagged pile was slick, and it zig-zagged horribly.

Amren waited quietly for him, arms crossed, and tried not to shiver.

Eventually Varian reached her, and without waiting for him to catch his breath, she dropped into the darkness on the other side. Amren didn’t land on stone, she landed on  _grass_.

Faelights sprang to life courtesy of Varian. In what should have been a space filled with cold, damp gray rock there was pure and unfiltered  _life_.

Vines covered the walls and ceiling, so thick that they completely obscured the stone. Ferns, bushes, and even  _flowers_  were growing in thick clusters against the walls. They were flowers unlike Prythian had ever seen before- massive bursts of orange and red that filled the air with a soft perfume. Elain would lose her mind at all the new species to catalogue and plant.

“The chamber I found yesterday just has a big oak tree in it,” Varian landed beside Amren. He still had to shout a little to be heard, but the vegetation helped absorb a bit of the waterfall’s roar.

Amren grabbed his hand, and Varian immediately stopped smiling. Something was bothering her, and if Amren was unsettled, he was unsettled.

She pulled him along down the path. Every foot or two there were bald spots where no grass grew. Each had clearly defined edges, as though life  _couldn’t_  touch those places.

If there was any doubt left in Amren’s mind, half a glance at the naked stone erased them. Hunting parties in Summer taught Varian all the tracking he needed to identify those marks in the stone- the footprints of someone small fleeing the cave.

Amren didn’t stop as she pulled Varian along the path deep beneath the mountain. The cave system wasn’t too complicated. There was one sharply angled turn-off that led down to Varian’s chamber. Amren ignored it and forged ahead towards where the walls and ceiling of the tunnel suddenly gave way to something massive and dark. It took well over twenty additional faelights to cast even the dimmest illumination, but what it highlighted left Varian utterly breathless.

The great darkness was a truly massive cavern hidden far beneath the mountain. It had to be  _miles_ across in every direction, and floor to ceiling was coated in thick plant life. Trees of every kind filled the cavern, all tightly grouped along the walls. There was one of everything- minus the oak tree he’d found below. Birch, aspen, pine, maple hickory, spruce, olive, apple, pear, peach, cashew, avocado, cherry-  _thousands_  of trees of every species and variety. Flowers both known and unknown clustered at their bases in a climate and soil they  _shouldn’t_  grow in. Interspersed he saw tomato plants, pumpkin, corn, strawberries- and the sense of that pure, radiant  _life_  throughout the cabins and lake was so thick in here it could have choked him.

Amren followed the path between the trees, stroking the trunk of a red apple tree on her way past. She headed for the absolute center of that cavern, which was well over two miles away. Varian couldn’t believe how  _dense_  everything was around them- not until they passed the edge of the tree ring and a meadow appeared. Here the plants grew just as thick, but they were lower, and just a bit thinner. He could feel the magic of life pushing back against something precisely where Amren was leading him.

It wasn’t until she spoke that he realized just how  _quiet_  it was, “Something came through a seam between worlds to this place. It was almighty death, a creature of pure and complete destruction.  _That_  is where the magic of the lake comes from. There is a stain on this place, and the Cauldron is trying to contain the infection with raw life.”

At the center of the cavern was evidence of a mighty explosion. Black diamond glittered where the beast had stepped into Prythian, and it radiated out for more than twenty feet in all directions. Even the cavern roof- covered in thick vines- was bald above them. Varian could feel it now- a line between life and death at the border of that diamond.

Amren released his hand and stepped inside alone.

“This is where I arrived,” she turned to look at the cavern around them. It was a strange memory- one of confusions and chaos as everything she knew was suddenly ripped away, “Before then, I’d always lived with the voices of my sisters in my mind. We were one,  _never_  individual. Every thought was shared, every move we made was in tandem- and we obeyed our Father with complete and unwavering loyalty.”

Amren looked down at that diamond, and Varian’s heart wrenched at the pain on her face, “We had to serve the humans, to help them as our Father wished. I had brothers and sisters who I loved as fiercely as I do everyone out there around that lake… And because they wanted what the humans had, my Father banished them to a realm of agony and horror. He came to regret it- He wanted to find a better resolution to the conflict, but their banishment could not be overturned.”

“The humans He loved grew cold, cruel. They became zealots, and decided my Father- one who loved  _creation_ \- wanted them to maim and torture in his name… As though they needed to act in place of my sisters and I. We destroyed entire cities to punish the zealots, to show them we did  _not_  approve- but they chose only to remember that a few people who happened to live there preferred the companionship of their own kind.” Amren growled at the floor, “They’re probably  _still_  torturing those like Mor, people my Father loved just as much as anyone else.”

“After that- after seeing how those humans twisted our Father’s image into something of hate and uncompromising rage- I couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted to go to my brothers and sisters who’d fallen, I wanted to tell them they were right. Some of the humans were beautiful, yes, but too many were either monsters or simply complacent. I wanted to explore- to find somewhere  _better_ , somewhere more akin to the world my Father intended.”

Her eyes filled with sadness, “He knew I wanted to leave… He knew I was always more curious than the others, and He still missed my brothers and sisters below. For my independence, I should have been banished with them, but He was still full of such sorrow and regret… Within hours of the destruction of those two cities, as the humans were already twisting our purpose there, He opened a seam between the worlds and suddenly-“ Amren shrugged.

“I’d never known such complete and utter silence. It hurt when the door between worlds closed- it was like a piece of me had been amputated. I was never individual, I was never an ‘ _I’_ , I was always ‘we’… And suddenly I was alone. It was more horrible than I’d ever imagined. I had no sense of my sisters, no sense of my Father even. I ran from this cave in rage and fear. There was no one to give me purpose or direction- just myself, and I still had no idea what ‘myself’ even was. The entire concept of it was foreign. I tried to do what my Father had commanded on the other world. Even though it made me miserable, it was the only life I knew. I looked for corruption and deceit- and back then the Night Court was the richest hunting grounds of all. I killed fae and human alike with the same uncompromising will I’d once been suffocated by… Until the High Lord banished me to a prison that even I couldn’t escape.”

Varian stepped onto the black diamond floor, completely unafraid of the overwhelming sense of death and destruction it radiated- an echo of the Amren who arrived in Prythian. She took his hands and closed her eyes, “That prison was a mercy. I was alone in the darkness and silence for so long that I  _finally_  heard my own voice. My hate and rage weren’t chaotic anymore, they were focused and settled… And when I broke out, Velaris welcomed me with open arms.”

She snorted and opened her eyes, “I wasn’t good, kind, or even merciful. You know that- you heard all the stories… I was selfish, because it was the opposite of what I’d been before. It felt nice enough. I got what I wanted, every little whim was catered to- but it was also hollow. It wasn’t the paradise I wanted and that made me angry… Then some arrogant little  _fetus_  with wings on the Throne of Nightmares and asked me to help him and his little family rule.”

“They taught you to love,” Varian caressed her cheek with his hand.

“Yes, but don’t you  _dare_  tell them that. I’ll deny it forever,” Amren bit at his palm lightly. She sighed, and a touch of weariness crept into her eyes, “The only reason this area is so full of life is that the Cauldron is trying to erase a memory of the blackest death you can imagine. I stained this land when I first stepped through, and it’s a stain that hasn’t faded in fifteen thousand years… That is the female you love.”

Varian had to laugh at the fear in her voice, as if seeing this changed anything, “Amren, you love me, right?”

“More than I thought possible,” she would only say it away from the others.

“What if I told you I was planning on killing Rhysand? Or Cassian, or Mor, or Nuala?”

“I would kill you first,” Amren said it without a second thought, but there was pure agony in her eyes at the thought.

“You would kill me to protect Nuala? You don’t even like wraiths.” He raised his eyebrows.

“She’s part of my family now. For Azriel, I would kill you.”

Varian kissed her gently, an apology for making her think such dark thoughts, “Amren-  _that_  is the female I love.”

“Nuala?”

“No, brat,” he laughed and kissed her again, “ _you_. The female who is loyal to her family, even over a male she loves. The female who would do anything to keep her friends safe.”

Varian didn’t fault Amren in the slightest for promising to kill him. He knew she loved him as completely as he loved her, but they were as much hers as she was theirs. While he was her heart, they were her soul.

“I promise not to make you kill me,” Varian nuzzled her.

“I promise to build a sex-dungeon and keep you locked up in there instead,” she stuck her tongue out at him, then looked around at the trees and flowers filling the cave. Amren sighed, “I’d forgotten how beautiful it was.”

“The sex dungeon?”

She stuck her tongue out, “No,  _brat_ … Eden.” It wasn’t the Eden she knew- the one she’d lived in after the humans were thrown out- but it was the closer than she thought was even possible. She considered it a moment, then poked Varian in the ribs, “Don’t eat any apples.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t want to know. Oh- and don’t touch the oak tree you found, alright?”

Varian rolled his eyes, “If I ask, will I get an answer?”

“Where I come from, if you pluck a leaf from the Tree of Life, it creates new species of monsters.”

“Don’t touch the tree. Understood.” Varian considered it, “I’ll put a fence around it so Feyre isn’t even tempted. She has a thing for monsters…”

“We might want to warn the others not to attempt to procreate here too. All this power- they’re likely to end up with triplets or worse.” She snickered at the sheer panic that would cause Cassian, then winced at the image of three more Cassians to deal with.

“I’ll let the guys know,” Varian had the exact same thought as Amren. Cassian was counted among his closest friends, but he still wasn’t sure Prythian could survive  _more_  of them. Summer certainly couldn’t.

“Thank you, I’ll warn Cerridwen and Mor.”

Varian frowned, “Amren, I’m not sure how to explain this to you, but two females  _can’t_  have a child… At least not without help.”

“I know how reproduction works,” she swatted his stomach, “but I also know that magic like this is just  _itching_  for a miracle.” The shadow of death she’d embedded into the land was too strong. The Cauldron would try to purge it however possible. Funny as it might be if both females ended up pregnant, the resulting children would most certainly not be fae. At least, not a species of fae Prythian had ever seen before.

Amren stepped away from Varian and touched the ground. She could  _feel_  her old power in the land, as permanent and unyielding in the face of life as ever… But it didn’t respond to her. Her fae magic didn’t know how to speak to that ancient, primordial being. The cave couldn’t tell that the one who stained it had returned- and that she was no longer a threat to what the Cauldron created.

Varian’s teasing smile faded as he watched her. She had been so scared during the war with Hybern, all because she knew she would have to take her true form again before it was over. When she exploded from the Cauldron and looked back- when those burning eyes fell upon him- he knew his Amren was still alive in the core of that being. She’d convinced herself that the creature she had been was all slaughter and death because that was all she was allowed to be.

But at the core of that was someone beautiful. Someone Varian would never stop loving.

“Amren?”

She glanced up, “Yes?”

“Here-“ he held out his hand, “there’s something I want to do.”

“I’m not really in the mood for-“

“Not sex,” he rolled his eyes. “I want to show you something.” Amren sighed and stood. She let Varian take her hand and pull her back towards the cavern entrance. After half a mile, he stopped and turned back, “Tell me what you see.”

“The same shit I saw when we came in.”

“No fresh footprints?” The bald spots along the path- markers of her own wandering fifteen thousand years before.

“No?”

Varian smiled, “So what you’re saying is that the Cauldron doesn’t recognize you now.”

Amren rolled her eyes at the look on his face, “Don’t be mushy. I don’t want mushy right now.”

His grin only grew. It drove Amren crazy when he became bubbly and romantic, “My beautiful, brave, kind, strong, honest-“

“-annoyed-“

“- _brilliant_  Amren has grown and changed since she came to Prythian, isn’t that what this means?”

The weariness returned to her eyes, “I’ve killed hundreds of thousands in Prythian alone.”

“To save  _millions_ , and that was just in the war with Hybern.” He wrapped his arms around her hips. When Varian dropped down to kiss her, she turned away with a huff. He kissed her cheek instead, “What you’re saying- my glorious, mighty, wonderful, lovely Amren- is that before you, the Night Court was a world of monsters and demons… But you helped turn it into a place of hope and light. You took the Lord of Nightmares and helped him become a Lord of Dreams.”

She didn’t want to argue with the picture Varian’s words painted. It was too nice, and chased away some of the pain in her soul, “You’re an oversized, moony, love-weak little infant.” Amren’s arms wrapped around Varian’s torso and when she faced him there was no more shame in her eyes, only that prickly, teasing warmth.

“I’m both oversized  _and_  little? And if I’m an oversized  _infant_ , doesn’t that just mean I’ll get bigger?”

Amren rolled her eyes, “Suddenly the idea of killing you is rather appetizing…”

“So long as you do it while I face you, I want to die looking at those beautiful eyes.” He smiled sweetly.

She returned the look, “Varian, stop. You’re going to make me-“

“-blush?” he leaned in.

“- _barf_.” Amren shoved him back slightly and her smile vanished. At least, the sweet one did. The predatory one was still very much intact.

“You know what else I’d like to make you do?” He returned that wild grin.

Amren sighed and shook her head, “Males only ever have one thing on their minds.”

“You usually jump me first.”

“You never object.”

“Why would I? I’m a  _male_ , we only ever have one thing on our minds.”

Amren couldn’t push back against the laughter that burst from her mouth. It was Varian’s favorite sound- musical and rare. She snorted more often than he was allowed to say, but that held a special kind of magic in it too. A creature of pure death and destruction, of life and creation- and he could make her laugh so hard that she lost control of herself.

“Come on,” Amren pulled Varian back towards the black diamond floor, “why don’t we put a little life on that stain.”

Varian scooped up Amren from behind and spun her in a circle, “You’re my favorite monster.”

“You’re my favorite idiot.”

Hours later, when Amren walked out of that cave with Varian, she thought back on the last time she’d walked out of the darkness and into Prythian to rage and destroy. 

This time she smiled as bright as the sun on high. It took fifteen thousand years, but Amren finally had what she’d always wanted-

Love.


	6. Chapter 6

##  **Chapter 6: Nessian**

****This chapter contains NSFW content**

“Do you think they like the cabins?” Cassian asked for the  _eighty-fourth_  time in two days.

“They certainly seem to,” Nesta answered from the bathroom. She was sincere in her reply. As much as she  _hated_  having to repeat her reassurances over and over (and over) again, Cassian had been looking forward to this for over three hundred years. He was nervous, and she would never fault him for that- not after he’d done so much.

Cassian swallowed, “They’re spending all their time outside, what if that means they hate the cabins?” He was standing at the window, watching lights flicker out in each cabin as their occupants moved upstairs where the windows were enchanted for privacy.

Nesta leaned against the doorframe, “You designed this place to be mostly for outdoor use in summer. If they were all cooped up it would be unnatural. Besides- Rhys is throwing us a party tomorrow night to say thanks.”

“Because he secretly has to winnow everyone to Velaris each night and he’s feeling guilty.”

 _Wow, he’s impressively paranoid_ , Nesta raised an eyebrow.

“I can  _feel_  the look on your face.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m omniscient.”

She shrugged, “In that case, can you see what I’m wearing?”

Cassian immediately cupped both hands between his eyes and the window to block out anything that wasn’t directly in front of him, “Stay away,” he warned.

“Why? So you can keep worrying? You didn’t come to bed at all last night. You were just  _pacing_.”

He huffed, determined to keep his vigil. Mor slipping away to be with Cerridwen shook him, and he was reading every ripple of moonlight on the water as proof that the others were winnowing away.

Still… he’d neglected his wife…

“Are you wearing your mating lingerie?” he couldn’t keep the hope from his voice as his thoughts shifted towards Nesta’s desire. Cassian could picture the white lace bra and matching panties she’d worn when they first came to the cabins. The panties in particular were his favorite piece of the ensemble.

“Nope.” Nesta said simply.

“The fur ones?” Viviane had been a guest at their wedding and slipped Nesta a set of lingerie from  Winter (as most guests at the wedding had).

“Nope.” She came a little closer.

“The Illyrian chains?” They were meant to be worn across the back of Illyrian clothes since Nesta had no wings to display. Nine blazing red siphons were set into white-gold plates, with her wedding ring holding the tenth. Lately, Nesta had taken to wearing the chains backwards so that the metal barely covered some of his favorite parts. He particularly liked the bar that would sit across her breasts and proclaimed her ‘Demon Witch’.

“No chains, but you’re closer.”

Cassian groaned, “You’re naked, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” She came to her husband and wrapped her arms around him from behind so he could feel her nudity against his wings.

“Stop it,” he grumbled.

Nesta moved her hand down to the front of his trousers, where she stroked his rising bulge, “I’ll stop when you stop dwelling.”

“I want to dwell.”

“No.”

“I  _like_  to dwell.” He put his hand over hers- but found himself pushing her to stroke harder.

Nesta snickered, “Well, it feels like  _this_  doesn’t want to dwell. Besides-“ she glanced over his shoulder and across the lake, “All the cabins are dark. There’s no one to watch.” She made certain her breast grazed a sensitive ridge of membrane when she peeked at the cabins.

“You make a persuasive argument,” Cassian murmured. He lowered a hand and curled two fingers up. Nesta adjusted where she stood so that his fingers brushed against the skin of her bare thigh. Cassian  _tisked_  and she shifted again with a laugh. As soon as he mound touched his fingertips, his hand came to life.

Nesta inhaled sharply as Cassian stroked his two fingers between her folds. He didn’t enter her with them, and avoided her knot entirely. Her hand on his pants and not in them was agony, so he would deliver that to her in return.

She felt his middle finger trace the edge of her entrance almost as an afterthought while Cassian teased her. Nesta flattened her palm along his length and began to rub harder, “You know, if you’re waiting to see who gives in first, I  _promise_  it will be you.”

Cassian snorted, “I’ll win, just give up now.”

“Oh really?” Nesta stood on her tip-toes and leaned in close enough that her bottom lip caught the edge of his ear when she spoke, “ _Cassian, I’m so wet_. Do you feel it? Can you feel how much your mate  _wants_  you?”

“You stop that right now,” Cassian warned. “You know playing with my ear is cheating.”

“Is it? I’m sorry, but all I can think about right now is how good it will feel when you’re moving inside me.”

He growled, but joined the game, “Mmm, yeah. It will, won’t it? You’re so hot and tight, and your taste- I’ll never get tired of making you moan with my tongue inside you.”

“I want you to come in my mouth, then slide inside of me and come there too. I want to feel your seed splashing against me, filling me-“ Nesta swallowed hard and cursed.

She immediately pushed around Cassian and tried not to see the look of supreme victory on his face.

The rule of their game was simple- first one to pounce loses. In the five years they’d been married, this was the first time Cassian had won.

Nesta shoved her mate towards the bed. She followed close enough to tug at the ties and buckles on his pants as he backed up. He let his trousers drop away along with his underclothes before sitting on the edge of their bed to drink in the sight of his wife’s naked body.

Her delicious nipples were peaked, and the lips of her sex were juicy, red, and swollen with need.

“We both lose this one,” his voice was rough as he stopped Nesta from going to her knees and instead pulled her onto the bed too. She turned away from him and waited for Cassian to lay down flat. Nesta knelt over him carefully, letting her mate pull her legs back so that his wings draped over them. The position brought her head in line with his cock- and his with her delicious mound.

Cassian wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her down to his waiting mouth. Nesta shivered in anticipation.

The first broad stroke of his tongue made her back arch and goosebumps break out across her body. When his tongue entered her, she clutched his thighs tight and gasped. Nesta let him feast until she was sure she could control herself, then reached down to stroke his cock. Cassian moaned his approval and began to flick her knot with the tip of his tongue.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

Nesta braced herself above her mate and opened her mouth around the head of his cock. Cassian’s hips began to thrust up immediately, helping her take it as deep as she could stand. She began to suck him as hard as she could, which made Cassian groan into her again and pick up the force of his own attentions.

Before him, the idea of feasting on another man (or male) didn’t appeal to Nesta in the slightest. It was strange to her- the notion that a man would enjoy such a pale substitute for  _real_  sex. She knew from her romance novels that men enjoyed the sight of their woman kneeling, looking up at them with big innocent eyes as they sucked on their lover’s cock… But with Cassian she finally understood the appeal.

It wasn’t about the male’s enjoyment, it was about  _hers_.

Cassian’s moans into her while he licked and bit made her toes curl beneath his wings (drawing out a long groan of approval). He was over five hundred years old- and a warrior as well. He’d taken a few lovers, but one or two night stands were where he’d earned his reputation and honed his abilities in bed. She’d been a virgin when they met- unsure and awkward. But when she first took him in her mouth and tried all those things she’d read about in her books-

Nesta flicked the tip of her tongue across the seam of his cockhead and smiled at the muffled curse he barked into her. All powerful warrior, more experienced than she’d ever be, and yet she could make him  _beg_  with her mouth alone. Every phantom roll of his hip, every twitch of his cock- if she could bring so much pleasure to her mate like  _this_ , imagine what was possible once she had that cock between her legs.

For Cassian, the appeal of Nesta’s sex was more primal. His attentions were making her moan and whimper around his shaft (which  _always_  felt incredible), but more importantly than that, the sounds she made told him his female was enjoying herself. Cassian kissed her entrance with as much passion and lust as he would have given her lips. His tongue entered her to taste the evidence of her arousal- and the more juice that arousal produced, the faster he would later be able to slide his cock in.

Not to mention the  _taste_  of her.

With previous lovers he’d licked them just because he knew it would bring them pleasure. When he’d first tasted Nesta- his  _mate_ \- it was something completely different. The taste of her was an aphrodisiac, the ultimate turn-on. Her sweet tang was the greatest flavor in the world, and what it represented- her sincere arousal- made his heart beat just a bit faster in his chest.

So Cassian pulled his mate down harder on his face, nearly smothering himself in his primal urge to taste more, taste  _deeper_. Nesta cried out around his cock as one of his broad fingers slid off her hips to flick the knot between her legs. She was so wet- he couldn’t stand to pull his tongue from her again.

But this position wasn’t quite right for what Cassian had in mind.

So he stopped resisting the pressure and pull of her mouth around his cock. He focused all of his attention on it, even while his tongue continued to slide through her sex. Her teeth just barely grazed him as her head bobbed, and her own tongue pushed against his shaft with every movement. The vibrations of her sharp, hard moans threatened to send him over the edge.

Though it killed him to do so, Cassian withdrew his tongue and released Nesta’s entrance, “ _Ness, I’m going to come_.”

Sometimes she stopped at the warning to simply stroke him to orgasm. Her mate’s release on her skin was as strong of an aphrodisiac as her taste was to him. It made her burn with need and reminded her of all those times they’d made love before mating- when her body responded with such sensitivity to even the feeling of his saliva on her skin.

This time though, Nesta had a declared plan for the evening, and she was sticking to it. Her movements became faster, harder, as she took him as deep as he could fit. Her moans were louder to send more and more vibrations through him. Cassian felt himself tighten almost to the point of pain before- with a wrenching shout- the dam broke and he began to erupt in Nesta’s mouth.

She stopped bobbing her head and swallowed quickly. Cassian barely registered the sensation of her throat rippling around him before he erupted again. She didn’t let a single drop escape as his hips strained towards her face.

When his orgasm subsided, Cassian pulled her away from his cock. She wanted to lick it clean- to taste more of him. As dearly as he loved her flavor, she loved his.

He helped her turn around (mindful as always of his wings) until he could feast on her while staring up into his wife’s eyes. She braced herself on the headboard and Cassian crushed her mound to his lips once more.

Nesta was panting before his tongue even entered her, her release had been so close before he stoppd. Cassian’s nose dug into her knot and when she cried out and bent down to stroke his hair, Cassian reached up to pinch and flick her sensitive, peaked nipples. The attention of his hands sent bolts of pure lightning down to her core, where it was answered with the stroke of his tongue and the grinding of his nose against her. Cassian shook his head and sucked at her harder and harder- until she was shaking and shouting, until only her grip on the headboard kept the world from falling away.

Nesta didn’t have to warn him before she came, it felt like was trying to force her body to surrender its release by the force of his mouth against her.

Her thighs clenched around Cassian’s head as that peak drew rapidly closer. Nesta grabbed his hands on her nipples to just hold him as every muscle in her seemed to pull towards his mouth.

Cassian’s eyes smiled up at her, he bit down on one of her folds, and she was sent hurtling over the edge.

“ _Cassian!_ ” she shouted his name as everything in her body went unbearably tight and incredibly loose all the same time. Her entire being shuddered as her walls clamped down on the tip of Cassian’s tongue- not enough to hold him, but enough to make him smile even more. A torrent of juices coated his mouth, but Cassian only latched on harder to catch every last drop of his mate’s release.

He loved it whenever Nesta came hard enough to fill his mouth, and as her mate- he always knew the trick to making it happen. It would exhaust her faster, but she never once complained.

Nesta finished coming and fell back across Cassian’s body (mindful of both wings and his once-again erect cock). She was a panting, shuddering, sweaty mess. When Cassian tipped his head far enough to part her folds with his tongue, Nesta shivered and pushed him away. Her body was too sensitive, too fresh from a vicious orgasm.

They were both panting still as she tried to regain some composure, or the ability to move with her shaking legs. She wanted to keep her mate on this bed all night, to claim every inch of him again and again-

-but she couldn’t forget her mission.

“Cassian,” Nesta gasped, “ _now_.”

“Are you sure?” His tone was no longer playful. He knew exactly how long it was before Nesta was ready to go again after such a strong orgasm. Before her body had a chance to recover, her hypersensitive core found his touch  _too_  strong, no matter how gentle he might be.

“I need you inside me  _right now_ ,” she gasped. Her body was recovering fast enough this time that it wouldn’t be painful, just a bit uncomfortable until they really got going.

“Ness, there’s no rush-“

“ _Put your cock in me right now and don’t stop moving until I’m done screaming_ ,” she hissed.

He obeyed.

Cassian put his hands back on Nesta’s hips and helped her slide down towards his cock. When she lifted her feet over his wings to settle around his hips instead of his head, he didn’t miss the flinch she tried to hide. She  _wasn’t_  ready, not yet.

“Ness, I’m not some sex-hungry male. I won’t start until you’re completely-“

She rose up and before he could finish his protest, Nesta grabbed his cock and sat down hard on it.

He was right, she wasn’t  _quite_  ready. The sharp edge of pleasure that tore through her as her mate’s cock slid in was a breath away from pain, and what usually brought Nesta to the edge of release only seemed to push her back from it. Cassian put his hands on her hips to at least slow her down, but Nesta swatted them away until she was finally- mercifully- seated.

“Next time we do this, I’m on top,” Cassian growled. He wouldn’t have let her drop onto him so quickly. In fact, if he were the one on top she wouldn’t even have been able to slide him into her.

“Just start moving already,” Nesta muttered. They were joined, it would take less time for him to help her body waken to his presence than it would have if she’d let herself recover from her last orgasm.

Cassian pushed her down harder on his cock, securing her as he flipped around and laid Nesta on the bed. His wings unfurled fully as his mate gasped. Her hands instinctively wrapped around his torso, holding him tight to keep him from moving inside her.

“Are you ready to admit you moved too fast?” Cassian muttered in her ear.

“Go to hell.”

He licked her neck instead. It wasn’t hard or fast- there was no claiming as he’d done as soon as her mound was within range of his tongue- but he was gentle, delicate even. Cassian kissed along Nesta’s throat, stroked her sides with his fingers, and murmured soft words into her ear, “Have I told you yet today that you’re the most beautiful female in creation?”

Nesta found herself smiling softly. She  _needed_  him to be a primal Illyrian right now, but instead of taking his more than willing mate for his own pleasure, he wanted to know that she was alright too. His mouth moved to her jaw and those gentle hands continued to stroke. His touch wasn’t meant to arouse her, it was meant to sing her shivering muscles to sleep, to slow her thundering heartbeat a bit and help her relax once more.

Cassian’s mouth met hers for the first time that night, and Nesta found herself moaning in approval at the taste that coated his lips. Her release left it there- but they were mates. It was  _his_  taste too. Mutual, shared.

His tongue didn’t come to play just yet. Cassian covered her lips with his in a relatively chaste kiss. Her lower lip slipped between his- and she claimed  _his_  upper lip in the process. When their kiss deepened and Nesta’s tongue began to trace against him, Cassian’s hands slid down to Nesta’s legs. He pulled them open just a little further, then wrapped them around his hips. His hands returned to stroking Nesta’s sides, and she found herself moaning ever so softly.

She’d forgotten her mission again… but did she really care? Couldn’t it happen another night?

Nesta moaned once more as her tongue found its way to Cassian’s mouth. Their kiss deepened, but it never turned hard or fast. His hands ventured up towards her breasts once more, but only to caress, not pinch or flick as he’d done earlier. Cassian traced this thumbs across her nipples and swirled around them. Nesta found herself sighing into his mouth.

Through their bond, he sensed her body waking once more, and Cassian smiled. The next time his tongue pushed into Nesta’s mouth, his hips moved forward just enough to rock hers up. Her gasp was low and continued as long as he held himself there before pulling out just an inch. The next time his tongue stroked hers, he slid that inch back in carefully.

What had been an aching fire between her legs was now a slow, measured pulse. It no longer straddled the line between pain and pleasure, but rather turned towards a newer, deeper form of arousal. Cassian felt his mate’s approval, but he didn’t increase his pace.

If he’d stopped her from lowering herself onto him, Cassian would have entered her slowly, with gentle rolls of his hips that pushed only a few inches in at a time. Since Nesta had forced him in with a single stroke, he took his time now in reverse. He wouldn’t just pull out and push his entire length in at once, he would build to it.

Lord of Bloodshed, shadow of the war-god Enalius himself- yet body and mind, he was devoted to making sure his mate was cared for. If she ever felt even a hint of discomfort he would take no pleasure in their coupling.

While Cassian eased out of her bit by bit and kissed his wife with such soft, sweet ease, Nesta remembered their first time together-  _her_  first time. Cassian had devoted just as much gentle care to claiming her maidenhead as he did now. He’d sworn the flicker of pain as her virginity ended was the last time he would ever cause her pain- and so far he’d honored that promise faithfully.

“I love you,” she breathed onto his lips.

“I love you too,” he whispered as he slid into her once more.

Cassian’s arms slid beneath Nesta to wrap around her back and hold her against him. Her own hands moved to the base of his wings, where she traced her thumb across the space where membrane met bone.

His entire body shuddered at her touch, but he didn’t pick up his speed. His lips brushed hers, his tongue traced the side of her own, but he kept their pace measured. No matter how labored their breathing became, or how much they  _both_  began to ache for release, Cassian wanted this to be slow and gentle. With every long stroke, he smiled at the low moan drawn from Nesta.

She listened to her mate’s groans, felt his cock twitching inside her, and Nesta continued to stroke the curve of his wing. Her other hand found the matching spot in his left wing and she moved both hands in tandem. Cassian loosed a breathless cry against her lips, and Nesta smiled.

“You know where I want it,” she whispered, and kissed him once more.

“I came first last time,” Cassian’s torturously slow pace was building them both to a release so overwhelmingly strong they knew it would be their last of the night. The slow ones were always enough to utterly ravage them.

Nesta knew he would hold off his own orgasm until he was half-mad with desire. She’d tested it before. He would fight it down with everything in his being so that she could find her own release first. Sometimes they managed to time it in tandem, but both preferred to take turns. They  _felt_  more when they could concentrate on their mate’s release without being blinded in their own.

She tightened her core around his cock as Cassian slid in deep. When he pulled out again, he didn’t come as far back. His shaft was scraping against her knot with each thrust. When he made her come on her mouth, it had been a sharp, peaked orgasm. What he was building her towards now was deeper and stronger. She wouldn’t come in a flood of moisture that reduced her to a shivering mess, but it would be the kind that made her toes curl and every last inch of her body feel  _alive_.

Cassian released Nesta’s mouth so that she could gasp for breath. He rested his forehead against hers and kept his lips close to gently brush against her own.

“I love you,” she whispered again, her voice high. “Cassian-“

He leaned back just far enough to watch Nesta as her eyes fluttered open to meet his own. When she saw the love and tender care in them her back arched and she came with his name on her lips. Cassian kept moving at that agonizing pace, thrusting in slowly as his mate’s walls clamped and shook around him, as she rippled along his length and her eyes stopped seeing him for a few delicious moments. He kept thrusting as shuddering pleasure racked her entire body, as even her hands on his wings couldn’t concentrate on what she’d been doing.

“Please,” she whispered through the tension in her body, “ _please_ don’t stop.”

“Do I ever?” he kissed her again and drove himself deeper and deeper.

Nesta screamed in pleasure at the  _feeling_  of him. Every time he pulled out her orgasm began to subside, and with each answering thrust back in it peaked once more.

He counted nearly a full minute before Nesta’s shuddering body began to relax once more. She was on the brink of her release ending, so Cassian stopped resisting her own.

Nesta’s body abruptly fell loose and that tidal wave of pleasure that had held her so tightly finally moved past, leaving her completely exhausted. She could feel the muscles in Cassian’s hips harden, and put every last ounce of strength into her core, squeezing him tight. Her hands returned to his wings to stroke in tandem with his thrusts.

“I love you,” he gasped, repeating what she’d said to him.

She claimed his mouth with her own and wrapped her hips tight around him as she felt the first hot splash of him inside her. Cassian groaned against her lips and pushed forward as deep as he could go, until her lower half lifted off the bed. In wave after wave he came, filling her body far longer and with far more than she’d taken in her mouth. His wings were wholly unfurled, as tense and strained as the rest of him while Nesta stroked.

One of his hands slid around to give her breast a hard squeeze before moving up to cup her cheek. Cassian traced the underside of his wife’s lips as he cried out and hunched forward again, sending another couple of bursts into her. She moved her own hands into his thick, dark hair and held his mouth to hers. When she rolled her hips beneath him Cassian gasped again and loosed another few precious ropes of heat.

She could feel his racing pulse throbbing through his cock as he emptied himself in her, as that cock began to soften and his moans turned more towards gasps for air. Only when he’d gone fully limp did Cassian withdraw from his mate.

He slipped out of her and both of their bodies ached at the loss of contact. He was acutely aware of the cool air and the too-light feeling of being outside of her. Nesta felt empty and wrong without him inside… but they both knew within a few minutes they would be thankful for the physical parting.

Cassian released her with the hand that still held her back and when he was fully braced above her, she shifted so that he could rise up to curl his right wing back behind him. Nesta rolled to one side and Cassian pulled her close once more- this time to just spoon lightly. He draped a wing over her even as the other stretched out across the rest of the bed. Nesta sighed happily at the warmth, and at the lips that began to trace the back of her neck. Cassian nuzzled her, and while she couldn’t return the gesture, she began to stroke his wing lightly. It wasn’t the kind of touch that awoke his arousal, but the kind that soothed and comforted.

“I love you,” he murmured once more against her neck.

“I love you too,” she whispered as the faelights in their room dimmed.

Cassian held Nesta until his pulse slowed, his breathing grew deep and even, and she felt a twitch run through his wing while he dreamed. Only then- only when she was  _sure_  he was out cold, did she force herself to move. All her body wanted was to sleep-

-but she had a mission to complete.

Nesta took the time to clean herself up, to wash the scent of their sex from her skin, fix her hair, and don a tunic with loose flowing pants before she slipped out into the night…

—

* * *

—

Rhysand woke a few hours after the sun began to rise. He was holding Feyre tight, and he nuzzled the space between her wings. He wanted to wake her too, to share with her the joy that was the new cabin. Even the air was better in this place, and never before had he slept so peacefully.

 _Someone_  loosed a sleepy moan as Rhys’ cheek nuzzled their wings. That voice did not, however, belong to Feyre- nor did the large, barreled chest Rhys’ arm was draped across, or the hand his fingers were intertwined with.

“You rise too early,” the voice murmured, “especially after last night.” The male’s free hand reached back to stroke Rhys’ cheek, then  _he_ froze as well.

Rhysand’s eyes shot open the same time Azriel’s did. The Lord of Night kicked his friend with a shout, sending him spinning away in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around his hips.

Rhys’ shout woke Cassian, who discovered with equal alarm that he was spooning  _Lucien_ , not Nesta. Lucien punched Varian, whose head he found nestled peacefully against his neck.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK?!” Mor had been laying on the far side of the raft alone- and someone had dressed her in her training clothes.

As the males (and Mor) woke and realized they were not in their beds and most certainly  _not_ with their females, laughter echoed from far away. Rhys was first on his feet, holding his own bedsheet tight around himself as his disoriented mind tried to figure out why he’d been  _cuddling_  with his best friend.

Feyre, Cerridwen, Nesta, Elain, and Nuala all stood on the balcony of Cassian’s house, laughing themselves hoarse at the panicked males- and female- currently stranded in the center of the lake on a large wooden raft. Rhys tried to launch himself into the air with a vicious shout of rage at their trick- but his wings wouldn’t cooperate. Azriel and Cassian had the same thought- and the same problem. Varian tried to transform, but found his magic conspicuously missing.

Like the Illyrians, he could  _feel_  his power trying to stir, but it was just out of reach. Their wings were able to open and close as normal, but the muscles required for actual flight were numb. Their innate power also failed them, and even the shadows were silent in Azriel’s ears.

Rhysand quickly spat into his hand and sniffed. There was a distinct odor of trefoil- poisonous to humans, but for fae it acted as a suppressant similar to faebane, though its effects lasted  _hours_ instead of days. Varian, Lucien, and Mor had been given the tea as well- no doubt while under a sleeping spell.

“AMREN!” Rhysand roared.  _She_  was the one who dosed the Illyrians with so-called ‘time-out tea’ every time they annoyed her. Over the centuries she’d hit them often enough to know Rhys took at least three times the dose of the other two before his wings were useless.

“Good morning males, Morrigan.” Feyre’s voice boomed out over the lake, “You were all just adorable little angels while you slept. We’ll cherish that image forever. Today we’ve decided to play a bit of a game. In ten hours- right on time for dinner- the tea will wear off and your powers will return. Before the sun sets, you have to make it to shore and figure out where we’re hiding.”

Nesta cleared her throat and Feyre moved the amplifying spell to her, “If you fail to find us before sunset, you lose, and that comes with a  _severe_  punishmet.” Cassian shouted something, but his voice was lost across the large lake. “What was that Cassian?”

He repeated himself slowly, and Feyre listened carefully to make out the words, “He says…. I want a divorce.”

Nesta only laughed, “You have to find me first.”

“Good luck,” Feyre took the spell back and sent her voice to the males, “There are two rules. Number one- no one leaves the confines of the warding stones. That’s to give you six a chance. Rule two- when you arrive for dinner, we expect you to all be clean. We aren’t having dinner with dirty, sweat-soaked fae.”

 “WHY AM I ON THE CAULDRON-DAMNED RAFT?!” Mor’s voice roared at the females.

“Because Cerridwen is new to the family and we don’t want to pick on her yet.” Feyre answered with a shrug.

“I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND, YOU BITCH!”

“I’ve known her longer than I’ve known you.” Feyre knew Mor couldn’t see her, but she stuck her tongue out all the same.

“Feyre?” Amren came to their leader’s side and nudged her. When the High Lady turned she nodded back towards the raft, “I think it’s time we got moving.” Lucien and Varian were throwing their bedsheets onto the raft before jumping into the water. They grabbed the back and began to kick, moving it slowly forward. Rhys’ wings vanished (evidently they didn’t give him quite enough trefoil) and he tossed his blanket aside to join them. Cassian and Azriel couldn’t swim with their wings numbed, but that raft was definitely beginning to move.

“Rhys- everyone’s minds are shielded, so you can’t use your power to find us. We’ll take our hiding spots and not move until dinner time, so good luck.”

With that, the females fled back into Cassian and Nesta’s cabin, and their game began.

—

* * *

—

“I can’t believe those evil little monsters did this to-“

“Are you done yet?” Azriel rolled his eyes as they neared the shore. Rhys, Lucien, and Varian were swimming as hard as they could, shoving that raft towards the cabins. It had been fifteen minutes- about ten minutes longer than the trip  _should_  have taken them. Feyre tied three anchors to the underside of the raft, and no one had anything capable of cutting them loose.

“I’m  _not_  done yet Azriel, because  _my mate and best friend conspired to drug me and throw me on a cauldron-damned raft!_ ”

Cassian walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, “Mor, you need to calm down.”

“NO, I WON’T CALM DOWN, I’M PISSED.”

“Well, now you’ll be pissed and wet.” Cassian shoved her off the raft five feet from shore.

She surfaced with yet  _another_  long stream of curses. She was putting Varian’s entire army to shame.

“Would you all  _shut up_!” Rhys snapped. The raft hit a gravel causeway. He, Lucien, and Varian pushed it out of the water a ways and crawled onto dry land. Azriel passed each male their sheets to cover up with. Now that they’d reached the shore, Rhys was trying to listen and scent where the females had scattered to.

“We should split up, we’ll cover more ground.” Cassian was glaring at the cabin windows, searching for any sign of Nesta. When he found her…

Lucien glanced around at the others, “We should each search our own cabins first. Who knows- this might just be some kind of sex game.”

 _Everyone_  looked at him like he was insane. He only shrugged, “It was the way they said we have to be clean for dinner… Elain and I- yesterday we-“

“I don’t want to know,” At least three of the males (and Mor) spoke in tandem.

“Fine,” Cassian rolled his eyes, “but listen carefully-“

With each he went through the areas in their cabins to watch out for- hidden doors meant to act as access shafts for the plumbing, crawlspaces, storage areas no one even realized  _existed_  hidden behind false walls and beneath floors. Nesta knew the cabins nearly as well as he did- it was possible the females had hidden themselves inside the walls.

Rhysand entered his cabin with all the grace of an apex predator. He dropped his blankets by the door and crept forward slowly, deliberately. Feyre’s scent wound through the cabin wholly and completely- but it wasn’t fresh. Rhys rounded a corner and found a tray on the dining room table. On it was a plate piled high with eggs, toast, and bacon. A steaming mug of coffee and tall glass of pineapple juice flanked a short, neat note in Feyre’s handwriting-

‘Sorry for the rude awakening. Eat up, you’ll need your strength.’

He went to the kitchen, searched the hidden little alcove behind their icebox for any trace of Feyre, and returned to the dining room with a napkin in hand. Rhys chugged the juice and coffee (which did  _wonders_  to warm him back up), and piled his eggs and bacon onto the toast. He ate it as he walked through the cabin and hunted his mate.

Rhys’ head felt a bit…  _light_  by the time he finished searching the first floor. Halfway up the stairs, the world suddenly shifted and he collapsed onto the step. Only a protective barrier behind him kept him from falling down the staircase.

The food was laced with sedatives.

—

* * *

—

“I’m going to kill the High Lady of Night,” Rhys announced two hours later when he  _finally_  dragged himself out of the cabin. He was pale and moving slowly as the world twisted and turned. Cassian, Lucien, and even Mor looked to be in similar condition. Only Azriel (who’d chosen to drink the coffee and juice rather than eat anything) and Varian (who was suspicious the  _second_  he saw food supposedly prepared by Amren) were spared. They’d spent the two hours scouring swaths of forest.

“So Lucien, no naked females?” Mor’s words were slurred.

“I hate you,” he didn’t have the energy for a proper reply.

Azriel had the sense to keep his own good fortune quiet. He cleared his throat and looked around the lake, “The females have to be hidden somewhere relatively obvious. Cassian- you  _built_  this complex- where outside could provide some kind of shelter- somewhere they would  _want_  to be stuck all day?”

Cassian considered it through his haze, “The Illyrian spice garden. It would mask their scents, it’s large enough for them to stay in one key location and yet move about, and frankly I’m surprised Elain hasn’t gone there already.”

Azriel nodded, “Then that’s where we go.”

“Fine,” Rhys breathed, “but we just  _walk_ , slowly, and in as straight of a line as possible.”

“It will take a couple hours round trip,” Cassian warned, “if we’re wrong we lose another chunk of time. Maybe we should split into two teams?”

Varian hesitated, then nodded, “Cassian- you take a group to the garden, I’ll lead one to the waterfall caves. It’ll be more difficult- I can’t shield everyone like I did Amren, but they might be tucked away in there. The garden inside is another one Elain would want to see.”

In the end Azriel and Lucien went with Cassian while Rhysand joined Mor and Varian in a trek around the lake. Each group had  _one_  fully conscious member to help keep the others on track while the rest of the sleeping drugs faded from their systems.

The females had  _poisoned_  their males. Whatever game they were playing, it certainly wasn’t just a simple case of hide-and-seek. He thought back to Feyre’s warning that males who arrived dirty to dinner would face a punishment.

Initially Azriel thought the punishment might be somehow sexual.  _Nuala_  was part of Feyre and Nesta’s group, if it was anything too bad she wouldn’t have joined. However- the drugged food was already more than he would have expected from them. Adding to that the caveat that the males had to arrive to dinner  _clean_  and Azriel started to worry about just what was up their sleeves.

He walked out ahead of Cassian and Lucien, taking point on the way down the white gravel path that led deep into the woods. The field Cassian converted from a lumber farm into a spice garden was three miles out, and with two males still recovering from a strong dose of sedatives it was a slow journey. Azriel watched for covered pits, snares, or other traps Feyre’s may have set.

That was the weakness of the female team: Nuala, Cerridwen, and Elain were shy, good-natured females who didn’t have a joking streak. Feyre had the same wicked sense of humor as Rhys, and Nesta tended more towards teasing than actual physical pranks.

Amren… honestly, her traps might kill someone.

At long last, the scent of cinnamon bark wafted towards the males. They rounded a bend in the forest path and stepped out onto a garden fit to season the food of an entire Illyrian camp.

“It manages itself,” Cassian shrugged when Azriel turned to gape at him, “that means I don’t worry about working the land. I’m going to sell the extras in Velaris and  _force_  them to start a few Illyrian restaurants.”

The field had originally been Cassian’s source of wood for the cabins- meaning it was  _massive_. The entrance was flanked by cinnamon trees (Cassian’s scent before he mated Nesta), and between the endless groves at the back and the incredible lines of bushes, flowers, and berries closer at hand Azriel counted every spice he’d ever even  _heard_ of. Cumin, tahini, sumac, thyme, cardamom, sumac, saffron, fenugreek, peppermint, spearmint, clove, aniseed, garlic, parsley, rosemary, chickpeas, teff, semolina, pomegranate, chili peppers, ginger, basil, korarima, rue, ajwain, nigella- Azriel was dizzy just trying to  _scent_  it all.

If the females were hiding here, they’d never be able to tell. It was a  _perfect_  spot.

“Everything was planted in straight lines along a grid,” Cassian pointed to the longest edge of the farm, “walk along that, and you can see from front to back. There’s a garden shed behind the trees, they could be hiding out there or just within the forest tree line. We should do a wide search- Azriel along the edge of the plants, I’ll be just inside the forest, Lucien a little further in and sniffing for any sign of life.”

Azriel nodded and took a step forward-

-straight into the path of the tripwire.

“Shit,” Cassian managed to say before light flashed above them and a wall of water slammed down. It flooded the path, and knocked the three on their asses.

Lucien roared as the water pounded them into the ground, then abruptly stopped. Azriel was coughing and trying to shake out his wings before he remembered they wouldn’t respond. He staggered to his feet.

“It can’t be over,” Cassian panted. He stayed on his knees, braced for another wave.

Three seconds later the light flashed once more. The males braced for water-

-and were buried in an avalanche of glitter.

—

* * *

—

Mor opted to skit the waterfall barefoot- which at the time felt like a good idea. Without Varian’s shields, the ground was slick and water made their passing treacherous. Bare feet gave Mor the ability to grip the stone with her toes as they walked, though once they reached the climbing portion of the trek her plan backfired in spectacular fashion.

Varian grabbed Mor’s foot and tapped it as she climbed. She waved him off and just kept pulling herself up, following the path Rhys picked out (which was faster than the one Varian has used the day before). Mor’s feet were covered in scrapes, and Varian had been offering her at least his socks since  _before_  they started climbing.

Sharp stone prickled at her, and by the time they reached the top Mor had a few gashes in the sides and tops of her feet from where she’d slipped as they grew numb. Varian swore before the waterfall drowned out all communication that it was an easy drop on the other side onto soft grass- but she waited for Rhys to land and wave up at her before jumping down into his arms.

He had magic enough to cast faelights along the alcove and down the path, but Varian still took point. He walked confidently towards the hidden garden.

If they hadn’t been drugged, Azriel would have called to his shadows and warned them all about trip-wires.

He stepped on one and dove to the side as something came flying out of the laurel branches along the path.

Rhys realized what it was a split second before it hit the wall beside his head, shattering into hundreds of pieces. He grabbed Mor and hauled the two of them up, leaving Varian behind. When Amren set the trap she hadn’t thought anyone would be stupid enough to climb barefoot- and she also had a thin grasp of what ‘prank’ versus ‘attack’ might be.

Mor screamed as wasps swarmed the cavern- those who weren’t killed when their hive was destroyed. They attacked anything that moved- Rhys, Mor, and Varian. Rhysand couldn’t acknowledge the pain of dozens of sharp jabs to his skin. He just carried Mor with an iron grip on the stone and prayed the waterfall mist on the other side stopped their attackers from following.

—

* * *

—

If they weren’t in so much pain, Varian’s team would have laughed themselves half to death at the three sparkly males who staggered out of the woods just as they returned from the waterfall.

Azriel, Cassian, and Lucien were covered in silver glitter from their hair to their toes. They’d been buried well over their heads in the stuff before it vanished- meaning it had found its way into their pants and shirts as well. No matter how much they brushed away, more seemed to come and take its place.

Still, once they saw how the other team faired, they swallowed their complaints.

Mor, Varian, and Rhysand were  _coated_  in bee stings, and one of Varian’s eyes was almost entirely swollen shut. Rhysand was carrying Mor still- her unprotected feet looked as though they took the brunt of the stings. The wasps followed the group over the waterfall, and only distance could save them. Rhys wanted to jump into the water, but he knew the stinging monsters would only swarm the surface until they came up for air. Halfway across the lake, shouting with every sting, a barrier had finally pushed them away. In that barrier, Rhys sensed Feyre’s magic.

Both groups sized one another up and sighed heavily. They’d lost the entire morning and a bit of the afternoon, and all they had to show for it were what felt like a million stings and at least ten pounds of glitter.

Before either team could ask the other any questions, light flashed between them and a small table appeared. It was piled with three blue bottles and a large container of something thick and white. Rhysand let Lucien pick up the note attached to the container.

“Amren didn’t tell us about the wasps when we set up. Feyre winnowed to Madja, she said to drink this, then rub the cream on the bites. In half an hour you should be alright. I’m so sorry. Love, Cassian’s ex-wife.” He handed the note to Nesta’s mate.

“Could it be a trap?” they all looked to Rhysand.

“I don’t care,” he sighed and dipped his fingers into the cream. He rubbed it onto Mor’s feet first, then set her gently down in a lounge chair while the potions were distributed and the cream was portioned out.

The silver males offered to help the three treat their wounds, but Rhys sent them over to the lake to try and wash the glitter off first. Azriel dipped his hands into the cool water and watched the cloud of it spread out from his hands. When he pulled them from the water, every last speck of glitter returned.

 _That_  was going to be a problem if he was supposed to be clean for dinner.

“This had better end in the best make-up sex of my Cauldron-damned life,” Cassian grumbled. He gave up trying to wash and went back to the rest of the group. Everyone murmured their agreement- even Mor.

“Amren  _has_  to let me top now.” The others looked to Varian. His ears turned red, “None of you heard that, understood?”

“Understood,” Cassian and Azriel filed the information away to use against him after their ordeal was far enough in the past that it became funny.

Someone had laid out food for lunch at the dining area- a basic Illyrian dish that Nesta must have prepared herself. Cassian and Rhys were tempted to ignore it, but Azriel and Varian hadn’t eaten anything all day. They rolled the dice and took a bite.

Half an hour passed with no ill side effects, so the others tucked into their food. Maybe it was another apology for Amren’s trap, or maybe the females knew the males were already plotting their revenge and it was unwise to tamper with any more food. Either way- they were able to eat in peace…

Until Lucien hiccupped and his hair turned purple.

Rhys practically threw his dish away, but it was too late. The enchantments were setting in.

Azriel cursed as his wings became a violent shade of pink. Cassian’s wings flashed white and vanished entirely. He screamed and spun fast- knocking Mor into her food when an invisible wing crashed into her. Her hair turned bright red streaked in a rich green that made the other’s eyes hurt, Varian’s skin turned  _purple_ , and Rhysand’s entire body- hair, eyes, and skin- were suddenly an obnoxious sky blue.

“I want a divorce too,” Lucien whispered. He set his fork down slowly.

“This is Cerridwen’s work,” Mor growled. “She was showing me an edible dye  _months_  ago that could do all of this. We thought it would be a funny costume idea come the next Feast of Souls, that evil wench…”

Azriel huffed, sending out a cloud of glitter.

Rhys considered the ridiculous shade of his skin, “This prank- the dye should wear off before dinner-“ he looked to Mor for confirmation, “-so they can’t enjoy the sight of us unless they’re close.” He studied the buildings and forest around them.

In tricking them, the females had tipped their hand.

Nothing moved in the windows or from the forests edge. The raft the females had sent them adrift on the lake in was back away from shore and bobbed along wherever the current chose to take it. No footprints save those of the males (and Mor) marred the gravel or dirt.

“I think I know where they are,” Rhysand glared at a random spot on the tree line as though he were  _sure_  it sheltered the females. He stood immediately, and the others followed. Azriel fell into line behind Rhysand before being dragged unceremoniously to the back of the group along with Cassian and Lucien- when they walked, the glitter blew off of them and onto both Mor and Varian.

He waved to them all to keep quiet and led them into the woods, then back towards the waterfall. Mor whimpered when she saw their direction. Az reached forward to give her hand a comforting squeeze- glitter be damned- and they followed.

Rhysand circled the lake until he found a small alcove just beside the waterfall. It was out of the worst of the current, faced the cabins directly, and was also the closest part of the lake to the drifting raft.

A raft he distinctly remembered pushing up onto the shore.

They’d all assumed the females wouldn’t hide using magic- other than the shield Feyre kept around everyone’s minds to stop Rhys from using  _his_  power. The females hadn’t had any trefoil, however, and none of their rules said they couldn’t use their own magic to hide.

While the males (and Mor) walked into trap after trap, the females floated on that raft and enjoyed their day. Rhys could feel only a little magic stirring in his veins, but it was enough. “How much revenge do you want?” he looked back to the others.

“As much as we can get,” Azriel growled. He was  _covered_  in glitter, and his pink wings honestly hurt everyone’s eyes as much as Mor’s clashing hair.

“How’s Nuala’s swimming?”

“Cerridwen will save her,” Mor snarled.

Rhys aimed his magic at the raft and launched it towards shore as fast as he could manage.

The screams as Feyre, Elain, Nesta, Cerridwen, Nuala, and Amren were thrown off the back and out of their glamoured hiding place were music to everyone’s ears. Nesta was still holding her book when she surfaced, sputtering and enraged. She spun in the water while Feyre and Cerridwen helped Nuala stay afloat. Elain was spinning, trying to see where the males (and Mor) had gone.

Varian was laughing along with the rest- right up until Amren’s head slowly broke the surface of the lake and her silver eyes fixed directly on  _him_. She was perfectly still, as though she’d found something to stand on in the water. She couldn’t see him through the trees, yet her eyes bored into his very  _soul_.

There was a flash of light, and the females in the lake vanished.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Amren’s voice boomed across the lake from the direction of the cabins. “Nuala can’t swim yet, why would we put her on a raft in the middle of the lake when you’re all out for revenge?”

“Something tells me we should run,” Rhysand said.

It was too late.

Tree sap rained down on the entire area, as if the females predicted they’d aim for that hidden little cove by the waterfall. Varian saw the sticky, non-lethal sap and sighed. He hung his head  _right_  as feathers exploded from all directions.

Tarred and feathered, almost exactly as he’d predicted.

Cassian, Azriel, and Lucien began to curse as that door in the sky opened once more and another batch of glitter buried them.

Mor pinched the bridge of her nose- then remembered what she was covered in. She took a deep breath and looked to the sky, “They never left the balcony, did they?”

“I’m too scared to check.” Rhys sighed.

Varian looked growled, “Three hours to sundown. I vote we just bathe and surrender.”

“Not in that order,” somehow Azriel managed to look scary despite being pink and shiny, “Surrender then bathe. Or something horrible will happen.”

“No hot water?” Lucien wouldn’t put it past them.

“Or acid, if they let Amren set it up.” Cassian’s wings stretched wide now that he could make out their shape thanks to the feathers. He couldn’t fly with them, but it’d hurt less walking through the forest dodging trees with his wings stretched than it would to try and pry them open once that sap began to dry.

They trudged back around the lake towards the cabins.

Sitting on the porch were three sketches on Feyre’s practice paper- a rough guide before she began to paint: Rhys slumped halfway up the stairs, drooling. Mor’s face slammed into her lunch thanks to Cassian’s invisible wings. Cassian, Azriel, and Lucien’s faces as they emerged from the first cascade of glitter. Varian with his head hung as feathers blasted him.

“Feyre, if you can hear me- we’re not friends anymore,” Mor growled as she trudged towards her and Cerridwen’s cabin.

She could have sworn a soft laugh followed her.

—

* * *

—

The sun set at least an hour before their powers returned. The feathered trio spent most of that time in their own baths, trying desperately to remove the sap either with hot water or sheer force. Varian’s skin was raw and pink when he felt his magic expand throughout his body. It rolled and settled beneath his skin as though it were stretching after a long rest.

With his powers back, it took seconds to remove the sap. Varian threw on the first clothes he found and trudged out to the fire pit. He could only be thankful that his skin had returned to its normal shade.

“You’re in trouble,” he glared at Amren when she came around the bonfire.

“You’re late,” she patted his chest.

Cerridwen practically ran at Mor to embrace her and kiss every fading spot that marked where a wasp had stung her. As much fun as she thought the prank would be, that ended the  _second_  she heard her mate’s screams.

Feyre approached Rhys slowly, false innocence shining in her eyes, “For what it’s worth, you looked  _adorable_  on those stairs. It’s my new favorite image of you.”

Rhys snorted, “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. At least, not until I find a way to break the death-bargain.” A glint in his eyes betrayed the serious tone of his voice and Feyre kissed his cheek. She whispered a promise in his ear of what was to come after dinner that had him smiling in no time.

“Glitter?” Lucien raised an eyebrow at Elain, “I think I still have some in my hair.”

She frowned, “So what you’re saying is that even after nearly three hours you can’t manage to bathe properly?”

“They’ve already corrupted you,” Azriel said gravely as he took Nuala in his arms. She was the only fae he held totally blameless for the day’s headaches.

Nuala bit her lip, “Actually, the entire event was sort of my idea. We were talking about things we could do and I suggested hide and seek… It got out of hand quickly.”

“It tends to with these lunatics.”

Cassian made Nesta come to  _him_  when he arrived. “Last night, did you-“

“Fuck your brains out so you’d go to bed and we could set all those traps?” Nesta smiled wickedly, “Why Cassian, do you really believe I would do such a thing?”

“ _Ex_  wife,” he grumbled.

“ _Ex_  husband.”

“Well? What’s our punishment?” Rhys crossed his arms.

Feyre glanced to the other females. When they nodded their agreement, she offered a grin, “We decided that in light of  _certain_ pranks being a bit-“

“You can say it, she knows she fucked up,” Varian grumbled.

“Okay, since Amren went overboard, we agreed that you all worked hard enough to earn the prize.”

Rhys considered it, “No, we actually won, didn’t we?”

“Did not,” Nesta rolled her eyes.

“You harpies said we had to figure out where you were- Mor said you were still on the balcony.  _Were_  you there?”

“I don’t see how that matters now,” Nesta said.

“Look, just because we were too scared to check doesn’t mean we  _didn’t_  figure it out.”

“So you admit you’re a bunch of cowards?” Amren raised an eyebrow.

“If it gets us some kind of prize after this hell? You bet your ass.” Cassian snapped.

Nuala wasn’t entire sure Cassian was being sarcastic when he growled at Amren, so she stepped up to try and diffuse the situation, “Why don’t we agree to half credit? Then everyone is a winner.” Azriel couldn’t help it- her sincere worry for everyone’s feelings tugged at his heart.

“No- half credit also means everyone’s a  _loser_ , and by the rules you all set, we  _won_ ,” Mor wasn’t stopping until they benefitted from the loophole Rhysand found.

“Fine, you all win, we lost.” The females all turned to shoot Cerridwen incredulous stares, “What? You were giving them the prize anyways, what does it matter who wins and loses?”

“You’ll figure it out after you’re married,” Feyre grumbled.

“Well? Come on  _losers_ , what’s our prize?” Rhys looked so incredibly smug it was an effort to not summon the glitter again.

Elain  _wanted_  to give the males (and Mor) their prize. It would diffuse any lingering tension and return things to a sense of normalcy. She put a hand on Feyre’s arm to stop any further argument and stepped forward.

“Your prize is a vision I had yesterday afternoon. I’m willing to share the future with you- if that’s alright. Um… I need you all standing together if you agree to see it.”

Seeing the future- knowing it as clearly as Elain did… The males were moving before they even realized they wanted to. They grouped around Rhys and Mor in seconds.

“If you could all lower your shields, this is difficult enough without breaking in,” Feyre took Elain’s hand. She would be the one to relay the vision to the other’s minds. Seeing what Elain saw or speaking to the group was simple, but doing both at the same time took concentration.

Everyone braced themselves, and Feyre threw their minds into the world they would one day see.

—

* * *

—

Rhysand was at the lake with Feyre, in their cabin filled with life, love, and all the sounds of a home he never knew in youth. Two sets of feet thundered upstairs as their sons ran from room to room in a raucous game of tag. Something stirred in his arms and he looked down to find a fat-cheeked, violet-eyed baby girl smiling up at him. His daughter- only a couple months old. She giggled and cooed at him, happy to see her father.

“I’ll put her down for her nap.” Feyre came in to collect the infant, “You’ve got training.” He always took over in the first few months after she’d given birth.

It made Rhys’ heart ache to hand the baby off, but he stood and kissed Feyre soundly, “I love you more each and every day,” he whispered.

“You can knock that off right now- I told you I’m not having another one until I’m fifty,” she rolled her eyes even as she kissed him back. “Go, shoo. Those kids won’t wait.”

Rhysand walked out to the porch to find the lake filled with more life and love than he would have ever thought possible. He walked towards the training grounds- towards everything Cassian had built those cabins for.

Azriel and Nuala’s twin shadowlings left black mist in their wake as they winnowed mere inches at a time. Rhysand dodged them and laughed. They were perhaps three years old, far too young to do more than glide with their bone-white wings as they waddled about in half-corporeal form. Whenever they stumbled, a ghostly hand would appear to catch them and scoot them on their way- Nuala and Cerridwen’s mother acting as guardian angel.

Elain and Lucien’s son was holding his newborn brother proudly, showing him off to all of his Illyrian cousins. He had wings made of pure light- a construct much as Feyre’s were. He wanted to train with everyone else, and both of his parents were there to watch. Elain reclined in one of the lounge chairs while her body recovered from labor mere  _days_  ago. She was radiant, smiling, and Lucien couldn’t stop kissing her.

Cassian sat with Nesta on their balcony- decidedly  _not_  divorced- and watched their daughter and son (six and four, respectively) race out from the first floor of the house to where Rhysand waited. Cassian would handle combat training later (meaning he ran the kids through the obstacle course before their afternoon naps). He, Rhysand, and Azriel aspired to creating their own Illyrian clan, populated with Illyrian and high-fae alike. The Inner Circle prayed their children would never know war, but they’d be ready if it came.

Cauldron save anyone who tried to so much as hurt their feelings. Already the kids had formed their own cohesive pack. Looking sideways at one earned the ire of all.

Rhysand’s sons launched off the uppermost balcony of his cabin. The blue-eyed eldest was only six, but he moved with confidence. He’d inherited his parent’s shifting abilities and his mother’s artistic soul- his wings were presently a soft pink streaked with silver in honor of his new baby sister. The younger boy was five, closer in age to his sibling than Rhys thought possible for faeries. His wings were a normal black, but soon enough he’d master the shifting ability enough to change color too.

They were showing off in jumping from the house- but no matter how hard they flapped their wings, they lost altitude fast. Rhys caught them with a shield halfway to the training area before they crashed.

A ripple across the lake was all that announced Amren and Varian’s son as he swam over. The toddler couldn’t form wings at all, but he loved to watch his cousins fly. He arrived on land and a soft flash of light left him with male legs and the upper body of a shark. He whimpered and kicked, trying to force the rest of the change.

Mor, sitting near Elain with one of her and Cerridwen’s children on her lap, patted the male on the head and sent him off to his other mother. She walked over to talk the two-year-old through the rest of his transformation into high fae before panic set in.

She and Cerridwen had listened to Amren’s warning about the magic of the lake and any miracles it may seek to work. For a long time they chose to remain childless, to bask in their shining, open love. It wasn’t until they’d begun babysitting for the Inner Circle that they decided perhaps having children was something they  _were_  interested in after all. For six months they winnowed to their cabin each night from Velaris and simply let nature take its course. Eventually, it was Cerridwen who ended up pregnant with twins (just as Nuala and Azriel had). One male, one female.

As Amren had predicted, they weren’t half-wraith, half-fae, but something entirely new. It was as if the magic of the lake- that pure, radiant life meant to drive out Amren’s dark stain- had found physical form. The twins looked so much like Mor and Cerridwen both that there was no doubt who their parents were, yet they practically bled graceful light into even the halls of the Hewn City. The dark and vicious of the Night Court couldn’t stand to look them in the eye, and every flower in Velaris bloomed not towards the sun, but to Mor and Cerridwen’s house.

—

* * *

—

The vision of a paradise yet to come cleared, leaving Rhys with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Feyre came to him and wrapped her arms around her mate, “You’re going to be an amazing father one day.” She kissed away his tears and held him tight.

Varian smiled to Amren and went to cup her face in his hands, “We’re going to have a  _son_ ,” he whispered.

“I know, and he’s going to be an idiot.” She sighed, but the glittering light in her eyes was as bright as he’d ever seen.

Mor said nothing, but went straight to Cerridwen and pulled her into a long, hard kiss.

Elain held Lucien’s hands as they both smiled brightly. He didn’t question their son’s ability to shift, or those blinding wings of pure daylight. All he cared about was his bride, and the gift she’d given him with her vision.

Azriel had his head buried in Nuala’s neck to hide the tears that had slipped from his eyes. She stroked the back of his neck and whispered in his ear, promising that  _their_  children would only be raised with love and kindness- not the base brutality he’d known. He would be a father their children could be proud of.

“Am I still your ex wife?” Nesta teased.

“My  _ex_ -ex wife.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close.

“That might be kind of difficult for the kids to say when they’re so young.” She shrugged.

Cassian sighed dramatically, “I suppose we can just ditch the ‘ex’ entirely then. One cancels out the other.”

“That sounds like a plan.” She kissed him, and felt him smiling against her mouth.

As the moon rose, the Inner Circle held their mates and watched the water, each lost in that vision Elain had shared. They would spend a million days like this, surrounded by an ever-growing family filled with life and happiness.

In the morning the males (and Mor) would take their revenge upon their mates for their cruel game, but for now they watched the moonlight on the lake and basked in the future they would all share.

Heaven.

Pure, complete heaven.

* * *

**~The End~**


	7. Chapter 3b: NSFW Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A formerly exclusive NSFW bonus addition to Mor and Cerridwen's reunion.

##  **The Cabin by the Lake (Exclusive): NSFW Morridwen**

_That night meant nothing._

Mor could still taste the female’s kiss.

_She meant nothing._

The sound of her breathless gasps still filled Mor’s fantasies.

_None of it meant anything._

A kiss so fiercely passionate it set their blood boiling and drew and undignified moan from her lips.

_I love you, Morrigan._

And then she simply vanished.

For three hundred years Mor took up a vigil on the anniversary of their meeting. Centuries of searching for a female no one knew in a city no one could enter or leave. She should have been found in a day- but she’d remained elusive. Mor still took lovers, but a part of her would inevitably compare them to that perfect, dark-skinned female and suddenly  _they_  were the ones who meant nothing.

Both of them had been masked and far from sober. The sex wasn’t what stood out in her memory- it was how  _right_  everything felt. Her body fit against Mor’s perfectly, her dark skin was a perfect complement to Mor’s golden tone, and the sound of her voice-

-it was the most perfect sound she could imagine.

That perfect match was what her greedy heart craved.

But… nothing. Three hundred years, and not so much as a whisper of her.

Perhaps it wasn’t the mysterious female who meant nothing. Perhaps it was Mor herself.

Would she be disgusted to discover that the third in command of Night was utterly in thrall? Did it make her laugh when she pictured Mor pining away decade after decade? A single night- that was all they’d had. Why did it have to be more than that?

Well, it didn’t  _have_  to be, but that was what Mor wanted above all else.

Rhysand was taken Under the Mountain, and Mor forced herself to set aside the ghost of that cruel, divine female. She had to at least  _try_  to be stronger for the people of Velaris.

Fifty years passed, and now with Elain, Lucien, and Nesta in tow their expanded family descended on Rita’s for the Feast of Souls. Rhysand and Feyre were… otherwise engaged at home, but Mor was determined to have fun. It didn’t matter that she had felt that anxiety and pain again the  _moment_  Rhys returned from Under the Mountain- as if the female were somewhere close. It didn’t matter that the dark eyes of her lover were haunting her once again.  She would have  _fun_ , and she would find a way to move on.

Tension hung over Mor, thick and nearly tangible. She felt a twisting guilt in her chest, as if she’d forgotten something. It was a feeling she’d had every Feast of Souls since that blessed and damnable encounter. She always thought ‘Maybe this time she’ll be there,’ and yet she never was.

_Still… what if?_

As Mor wrestled with the decision to stay on the dance floor or go home, Rita caught her eye, glanced at the door to the upstairs party, and nodded.

It was Rita’s mate who’d introduced her to the stranger. They both knew of Mor’s centuries-long quest for her identity. 

_Could that mean-_

Mor didn’t care who saw her. She ran to the door and took the steps two at a time. Anyone who got in her way was moved with a hurried ‘sorry’ and a not-so-gentle shove. She almost knocked the doors off their hinges in her rush to enter and-

-and sitting at the table Mor had conducted her vigil from was a dark-skinned female in a black dress, her identity hidden behind a black veil and a gold-and-diamond mask that obscured everything beneath her obsidian eyes.

She gave no thought to who may see her unmasked face. Mor went straight to the female she’d loved and lost. Delicate, slender hands slid to her hips as Mor lifted the veil just far enough to seize the female’s mouth- a boundary she’d set on their only meeting. Her shattering kiss was as devastatingly perfect as the last they’d shared.

Mor didn’t even bother to excuse herself from her friends downstairs. Rita would tell them she’d left with someone. She winnowed the female across Velaris, straight into her apartment.

“Where have-“

The female put a finger on Mor’s lips to stop her as they both struggled for breath. They were trembling with need, but the female took a step back.

“I was scared for so long. I thought you would hate me if you knew. Every year I watched you look for me, and every year it killed me to stay away. After Under the Mountain, I refuse to be afraid.”

“Under the Mountain?” Mor paused- then it hit her in a wave of terror and ice. Only two females from Velaris went Under the Mountain- two females far,  _far_  too close to the Inner Circle, “Which one?”

There was no hesitation as the half-wraith removed her veil- the shield that gave her the courage to love Mor openly for just one night so many years ago. Her almond-shaped eyes and the crook in her left eyebrow- Mor knew instantly.

“Cerridwen.”

She stared at her for a long time- at Azriel’s spy who she’d loved with quiet ferocity for three long centuries. The female who’d wrecked all others for her, who’d vanished after a kiss that Mor could still feel on her lips even now.

A female who was something far greater than  _nothing_ … the one Mor had long since realized… was her mate.

“You didn’t give me a chance last time,” she whispered. “You didn’t wait for me to reply, so let me say it properly now.”

Mor stepped in close, erasing the gap between them. She cupped Cerridwen’s face in her hands and stroked her silken cheeks, just as she’d done after their first and only night together.

_I love you Morrigan._

“I love you too.”

Cerridwen barely managed to stifle a sob as Mor grabbed her and drew her into a long, hard kiss. Her entire body was overwhelmed by lightning and fire- by the feeling of that golden female she’d loved so much for so long, it was hard to even breathe each time she was dismissed from her presence.

One of Mor’s hands slid around Cerridwen’s lower back while the other moved up her spline to gently hold the back of her neck. It took three hundred years to find Cerridwen again, she wasn’t about to let go.

Memory tended to distort with time, or so Mor believed. A pleasant memory becomes magical, the bad get worse. After her desperate search, a part of Mor had long since accepted that even if she  _did_  find the female, things couldn’t possibly be as perfect as she’d imagined.

She was wrong.

If anything, time had dulled the fantasy of Cerridwen’s lips against hers. Mor couldn’t taste enough of them. They were perfectly formed, and she could hardly stop herself as she sucked Cerridwen’s lower lip between hers, acutely aware of the other returning as much attention to her upper one.

The first brush of Cerridwen’s tongue between her lips elicited a soft, pleading moan. Both still had a barrier up- those same walls of uncertainty and fear that separated them for so long. With Mor’s arms tight around Cerridwen and the wraith’s stroking her hair, they were still two beings.

Separate. Individual. Apart.

So, Mor opened her mouth, and let Cerridwen’s tongue enter.

The taste of her lips had only been a shadow of the divine sweetness Mor found in her mouth. Her own tongue stroked and teased as Cerridwen returned her moans.

Slowly, almost on their own, Cerridwen’s hands moved from Mor’s hair to her back, her sides, her hips. A soft nudge- barely more than a shifting of the feet, adjusted their hips so that each female’s pelvis pressed against the other’s thigh. That pressure sent a shiver through Mor, but it was nowhere near enough.

She broke their kiss and opened her eyes to meet Cerridwen’s gaze. Their bodies were pressed against one another, with pesky clothing keeping them apart. A blush covered the wraith’s chest and cheeks. Her eyes were wide as she panted.

Cerridwen held still as Mor stepped back. Her dark eyes followed a golden hand as it rose to cup her cheek. She turned her gaze back to the shining female and nuzzled her palm, turning ever so slightly to lick at Mor’s thumb, then draw the tip in to lightly scrape with her teeth.

Mor’s eyes never left Cerridwen’s as she traced her thumb along those perfect lips. Once she’d circled back around, the wraith nipped at it once again. Mor slid the thumb in to her mouth to the first knuckle, then began to slowly pump it in and out as Cerridwen started sucking at the skin. She stroked the pad of Mor’s finger with her tongue slowly, showing her  _exactly_  what she planned to do between her legs later on.

Aching need was building in Mor and she whimpered at the heat of Cerridwen’s mouth. The apex of her thighs pulsed in time with her lover’s tongue.

Her thumb withdrew and she returned to Cerridwen’s embrace. She cupped her lover’s neck once more and trailed kisses along her jaw, earning a happy sigh. The shy desire in Cerridwen made Mor burn hotter, and she slid a hand down from neck to shoulder, drawing aside the strap of Cerridwen’s black dress. The wraith freed her arm from it entirely and with a kiss of cool air, her breast slipped free.

Red silk scraped across the too-sensitive flesh of her erect nipples as Mor pressed against her. The hand on Cerridwen’s shoulder slid down to the newly exposed flesh. Mor gently squeezed her breast, earning a sweet gasp.

Again, it was even more perfect than Mor remembered. A comfortable handful of warmth and impossibly soft skin that all pulled towards a mahogany nipple the perfect size for nibbling.

Mor swirled her thumb around the nipple before pinching it. Cerridwen’s next gasp was swallowed by Mor’s lips as she drew her once more into a deep, open kiss. Refusing to release Cerridwen’s breast, Mor stepped back and pulled her lover along.

Cerridwen smiled against her lips as Mor pulled her from the foyer to her bedroom. She broke the kiss only to draw some much-needed air. “I’ve had three hundred years to dream of how I would do this.”

“I’ve been dreaming of it far longer.” Cerridwen let or sit on the bed before lifting her skirts and moving to straddle Mor’s hips. She stroked her golden face and smiled at the way it seemed to glow against her darkness. Mor’s arms circled her waist, holding her secure. On a whim, she rested her cheek along the draped fabric of Cerridwen’s half-on dress, her nose gently pressing against the wraith’s breast.

“When Azriel brought Nuala and I to meet you all- the moment I saw you I was lost,” Cerridwen cradled Mor’s head, basking in the miracle that was at last in her arms. No fear, no shame, and no mask to conceal her identity, “I loved you quietly every second those years. Even Nuala noticed I’d lost myself to someone- not that she ever knew who. I went to Rita’s that night because she told me to find a female who could help me forget the other.”

“You always knew it was me beneath the mask, didn’t you? Before I even took it off?” There was pain in her voice, a deep, aching regret for every second they’d lost because of her fears.

“I did,” Cerridwen tipped Mor’s chin up until their eyes met, “and I don’t hold it against you. You looked for me, I was the one hiding. I saw how sad you were and I just- I was too scared of losing you to risk having you.”

“Feyre knows… what I am.” Mor’s arms tightened and she hid her face once more in Cerridwen’s chest, “If it is the only way to be with you, I’ll tell the others.” Her words were muffled, and Cerridwen’s heart cracked.

She returned to stroking Mor’s hair, comforting her, “Don’t you dare, not for me.”

“I would do anything for you,” Mor whispered, and she meant it. Three hundred years apart, and yet now, in Cerridwen’s arms, she knew she’d found home at last.

“Love me,” Cerridwen lifted her face and kissed Mor, “trust me, and hold me. But don’t reveal yourself for me. Do it for you, and only when you’re ready. My sexuality is the easiest part of me for people to understand, so I have never feared it or questioned how others would see me. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to reveal that precious side of yourself and I would  _never_  make it a condition of my love for you.”

Mor sobbed against her lips and salty tears mixed into their kiss. Cerridwen was a miracle she didn’t deserve. To the wraith, Mor was a blessing from the divine.

Cerridwen kissed away Mor’s tears, but the golden female needed her to know how much her words and actions meant. She seized Cerridwen’s mouth with hers and rolled to lay her on her back. She kept a hand on the wraith’s cheek as she shifted to straddle her leg and whipped blindly through the fabric of her skirts. Once she found a way in, her fingers reached for Cerridwen’s leg and followed it up towards something warm and swollen with need.

That was where the desperation eased somewhat. Cerridwen had foregone undergarments and Mor’s fingers traced the curve of her smooth entrance. Up and down her finger slid, never enough to part the folds, no matter how Cerridwen whimpered against her mouth or angled her knees out and away- opening herself.

When Mor’s finger parted her at last, it came away shining with moisture.

She continued her light tracing, only offering the tip of her finger- enough to tease the inside of her folds but not touch her entrance or touch her knot. Still, a drop of something slick and sweet soon rolled down her finger.

“ _Please_ ,” Cerridwen gasped at last. Her hand grasped Mor’s elbow as if she could force her hand in deeper, but the other resisted.

She slid another finger through Cerridwen until it too was covered in her wetness. Despite her whispered pleas against Mor’s lips, she continued to tease her- all the while torturing herself.

“Take it off,” Mor said at long last, moving the skirts from beneath her knee. Cerridwen didn’t hesitate- she shifted her hips up- straight into Mor’s waiting knot. Mor gasped and ground against Cerridwen harder and harder, until she managed to pull her skirts out from under her and finally threw her dress off the bed.

Mor fell onto her aching breasts in an instant, and as she sucked one into her mouth she slowly pushed her fingers into Cerridwen. The wraith arched in an instant, pushing herself against Mor’s mouth with a wordless cry. Too long- it had been too long since she felt so whole and complete. She wanted to kiss Mor- to return as much of this incredible feeling as she’d been given.

While Mor focused her attentions on Cerridwen’s slit and breast, Cerridwen began to roll her hips up into the slow plunge of her fingers. Mor moaned and her own breath hitched as the leg beneath her shifted to rub against her knot through the fabric of her gown.

“Take it off,” Cerridwen threw Mor’s words back at her.

Mor was forced to withdraw from Cerridwen’s body, leaving her empty and hungrier than ever. She slipped a hand beneath Mor’s skirts as the golden female negotiated hidden ties- then those of the ruby corset beneath. Cerridwen had no love for undergarments, but Mor most certainly did. She felt silk lace and stroked the front of that- hard enough to encourage Mor to undress faster, but not hard enough to offer any reprieve.

The dress was, at last, flung aside, and with it her corset. Cerridwen slipped her hand down the front of those red silk panties and hooked two fingers into Mor. When the female bent down to kiss her, she dodged her lips with a smirk and immediately took one of Mor’s large breasts into her mouth.

Nothing existed beyond Cerridwen’s touch- nothing save the scent of her arousal. Mor pushed her cool fingers back into her lover and curled her thumb down to press- finally- against her knot. Cerridwen’s shout of pleasure was little more than a hum as she continued to bite and suck at Mor’s breasts. As sensitive as she was there- it was almost as good as rubbing her clit too.

Cerridwen had Mor’s breast to absorb her gasps and cries. Mor had nothing. She was shaking, whimpering with need and desire. A thick, wet sound came from both and only served to encourage the wave growing inside her. That lewd sound represented what she could do to Cerridwen- as much as the wraiths tortured cries. It also stood for what Cerridwen was capable of drawing from her.

Mor’s free hand pinched and squeezed Cerridwen’s breast as her fingers slowly began to pick up speed. Cerridwen’s hips began to rise as she released Mor’s breast and looked up at her- mouth frozen open. She exhaled low and slow, but the tension in her body gave it sound. Mor was almost lost, but she smiled at that sound.

Her other most treasured memory took on new significance- the way Cerridwen screamed her pleasure as it devastated her. For a quiet, secretive wraith she could make the most wonderful sounds.

At the same time, both females slid their fingers from one another. Cerridwen turned half onto her side and lifted her leg for Mor to grab. The other female ripped her panties in an effort to get them off faster, then shifted so that she was straddling Cerridwen’s open legs. She pressed her heat to her lover’s entrance, hugged the leg tight to her chest, and began to roll her hips in tight, focused circles. Within a few passes, her folds parted against Cerridwen, and the wraith’s against hers.

They cried in unison as their knots found one another and that glorious, wet noise filled the air once more. No female ever fit so completely against Mor, and Cerridwen never felt more powerful or powerless as she did beneath this one. Her pleasure slid back for a moment as she found their rhythm, but now it was rushing at her hard and fast.

It would be impossible to hold back the tidal wave.

As much as Mor loved Cerridwen’s screams, Cerridwen loved the flood unleashed by the other’s orgasm.

Mor’s gaze was drawn from Cerridwen’s at last and her circling focused exclusively on the swirling of their knots. She pressed down harder and harder as Cerridwen’s gasps turned to shuddering cries and her body tensed.

A squeak from Mor was the sign that the wave was upon her. That squeak sent Cerridwen over the edge.

Her back arched and two growing cries were torn from her lips before her jaw clenched and a scream ripped through her. Her entire body was hard and loose as Mor ground against her knot, made a far quieter shout, and was immobilized by blinding, glorious fire. The first splash of her against Cerridwen’s knot took the very breath from her lungs, and the wraith quickly reached down to pull her lips open wider.

She screamed again and took over for Mor, grinding their bodies together as another jet of Mor’s release hit hard against her quaking entrance. Mor fell to her side on the bed, but still she held Cerridwen’s leg, and the wraith didn’t stop moving until Mor’s body shuddered and she forced a hand between them, protecting her core.

Mor shivered and shook with the force of her climax. White spots danced before her eyes and she wasn’t entirely sure she could fight back the darkness that threatened to take her as she shielded herself from any more stimulation.

Only when that other tension left her did she let Cerridwen untangle their legs and crawl up the bed to kiss her.

“I love you,” Mor murmured, her body still shuddering with violent pulses of pleasure.

Cerridwen settled against Mor and held her- mound to mound and breast to breast. There was no denying they fit perfectly. She wanted to kiss her through the next ten minutes- until Mor had recovered enough for Cerridwen to wreck her again. But there was something she had to do-

“This time we can say it in the same century,” she whispered against Mor’s lips. “I love you too.”


End file.
